Wake
by Lady Morgan of Sealand
Summary: For seventeen-year-old Kurt Hummel, getting sucked into other people's dreams is getting old. He can't tell anybody about what he does — they'd never believe him, or worse, they'd think he's a freak. KLAINE!
1. 6 Minutes

**6 Minutes**

**Welcome to my first Glee story on this account! This is based off of a wonderful little novel and book series called _Wake_ by the totally awesome Lisa McMann. I really like this story and thought it would be perfect for Glee! And even more so for Klaine!**

**This chapter was originally written on April 19, 2012. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Wake or Glee, I am but a teenager with an unhealthy obsession with Pottermore, (If you are a member, add me FireboltHear14774) Harry Potter, A Very Potter Musical and Sequel, and Glee. There may or may not be AVPMS references throughout the course of the story. I do not know yet. There will also be some weird pairings going on here, but there really funny!**

**Words: 982**

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**December 9, 2011, 12:55 P. M.**

Kurt Hummel's math book slips from his fingers. He grips the edge of the table in the school library, trying desperately not to fall off his chair like he did last time. Everything starts to go black and silent. He knows what is about to happen. He's been going through the same thing for years. He has no control over it but to just go with flow. He sighs and rests his head on the table, trying to calm his rapid breathing. He tries desperately to pull himself out of it, but only fails miserably as he has been doing for so long. He is too tired today. Too hungry. He really does not have time for this.

And then he's fallen through.

He is sitting in the bleachers in the football stadium, blinking under the bright white lights, he is the only one who is silent amongst the raging roars of the crowd.

He glances at the people sitting in the bleachers around him; fellow classmates and their parents. He looks around anxiously, trying to spot the dreamer. He can tell this dreamer is afraid, but where is he? Then he looks to the football field. He finds him. He rolls his glasz blue eyes in annoyance.

It is Finn Hudson. No question about it. He is, after all, the only naked player on the field for the homecoming game.

Nobody seems to notice or care. Except for him. The ball is snapped and the lines collide, but Finn is covering himself with his hands, hopping from one foot to the other. He can feel his panic increasing. Kurt's fingers tingle and begin to go numb.

Finn looks over at Kurt, eyes pleading, as the football moves toward him, a bullet in slow motion. "Help," he says.

He thinks about helping him. Wonders what it would take to change the course of Finn's dream. He even considers that a boost of confidence to the star receiver the day before the big game could help put McKinley High in the running for the Regional Class A Championship.

But Finn is really a jerk, letting Kurt be bullied all the years he was. Throwing him in the dumpster and throwing slushies in his face. He would not appreciate the help that Kurt had to offer. Therefore, he resigns himself to watching the debacle unfold. He wonders if he'll choose pride or glory.

He's not as big as he thinks he is.

That's for damn sure.

The football nearly reaches Finn when the dream starts over again. _Oh, get ON with it already,_ Kurt thinks as he fidgets, wanting to get the dream over with. He didn't understand football, despite being on the team at one point in time, and he had no intention of being forced to watch it. He concentrates in his seat on the bleachers and slowly manages to stand. He tries to walk back under the bleachers for the rest of the dream so he does not have to watch, and surprisingly, this time, he is able.

That is a bonus.

**1:01 P. M.**

Kurt's mind catapults back inside his body, still sitting at his usual remote corner table in the library. He flexes his fingers painfully, lifts his head and, when his sight returns, he scours the library.

He spies the culprit at a table about fifteen feet away. He is awake now. Rubbing his eyes and grinning sheepishly at the two other football players who are standing around him, laughing. Shoving him. Whacking him on the head. Kurt knows them as Noah Puckerman and Azimio Adams. Two more people who bully him.

Kurt shakes his head to clear it and he lifts up his math book, which sits open and face down on the table where he dropped it. Under it, he finds a fun-size Milky Way bar. He smiles to himself and peers to the left, between the rows of bookshelves.

However, no one is there for him to thank.

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**I hope you liked the first chapter. I am sorry that it is somewhat short; I promise you that they will be getting MUCH longer as we move on in the story.**

**So, who do you guys think left the Milky Way bar for Kurt? Hehehe. I will try to update as soon as I can in the future. **

**And with that in closing, please click that little blue button at the bottom of the page and leave a kind review! I do so love reviews!**

**Don't anger Cornish Pixies, they bite.**

**LatinMagicWriter is on fire**


	2. Where it Begins

**WHERE IT BEGINS**

**Thank you all for your wonderful reviews, favourites, and alerts! They truly made me as happy as Klaine's first kiss! Which meant I was squealing...a lot. Hehe, also note the change in rating to M. I've realized in this chapter that I might have to change is because of Santana's dream she has...Plus in the future I may just have a wee bit of Klaine smut in here in future chapters, plus in a future party scene where things get a little out of hand.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Wake or Glee. If I did, then I would not be here...**

**When things are in **_**italics**_**, its symbolizes a dream sequence. When things are ****bolded underline****, it means to state a point in time.**

**Words: 4,140**

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**Evening, November 23, 2001**

Kurt Hummel is eight. He wears a thin, faded red-print dress top with too-short sleeves, faded blue jeans, gray moon boots, and a brown coat that is missing two buttons. His short, dark brown hair stands up with static. He rides on an Amtrak train with his Mother from their home in Lima, Ohio, to New York to visit his grandmother. Mother reads the Globe across from him. There is a picture on the cover of an enormous man wearing a powder-blue tuxedo. Kurt rests his head against the window, watching his breath make a cloud on it.

The cloud blurs Kurt's vision so slowly that he does not realize what is happening. _He floats in the fog for a moment, and then he is in a large room, sitting at a conference table with five men and three women. At the front of the room is a tall, balding man with a briefcase. He stands in his underwear, giving a presentation, and he is flustered. He tries to speak but he cannot get his mouth around the words. The other adults are all wearing crisp suits. They laugh and point at the bald man in his underwear._

_The bald man looks at Kurt._

_And then he looks at the people who are laughing at him._

_His face crumples in defeat._

_He holds his briefcase in front of his privates, and that makes the others laugh harder. He runs to the door of the conference room, but the handle is slippery and something slimy drips from it. He can't get it open; it squeaks and rattles loudly in his hand, and the people at the table double over. The man's underwear is grayish-white, sagging. He turns to Kurt again, with a look of panic and pleading._

_Kurt doesn't know what to do._

_He freezes._

The train's brakes whine.

And the scene grows cloudy and is lost in fog.

"Kurt!" Kurt's mother is leaning towards Kurt. Her breath smells like gin, and her straggly hair falls over one eye. "Kurt, I said, maybe Grandma will take you to that big fancy sports store. I thought you would be excited about that, but I guess not." Kurt's mother sips from a flask in her ratty old purse. Kurt would never go into a sports store. His mother knows that. He has never liked sports. They were in New York, what Kurt wanted to do was go to Broadway and what he wanted to see was 45 Seconds From Broadway.

Kurt focuses on his mother and smiles. "That sounds fun," he says, even though he doesn't like sports. He would rather have a new cardigan sweater. He wriggles on the seat, trying to adjust his worn out shirt. The fabric is stretched and the colour is horribly faded. He would love to go shopping but he knew that they couldn't afford the clothes that he wanted. He thinks about the bald man and scrunches his eyes. Weird.

When the train stops, they take their bags and step into the aisle. In front of Kurt's mother, a disheveled, bald businessman emerges from his compartment.

He wipes his face with a handkerchief.

Kurt stares at him.

His jaw drops. "Whoa," he whispers.

The man gives him a bland look when he sees him staring, and turns to exit the train.

**September 6, 2004, 3:05 P. M.**

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Kurt sprints to catch the bus after his first day of sixth grade. Santana Lopez, one of the Lima's North Side girls, sticks her foot out, sending Kurt sprawling across the gravel. Santana laughs all the way to her mother's shiny red Jeep Cherokee. Kurt fights back the urge to cry, and dusts himself off. He climbs on the bus, flops into the front seat, and looks at the dirt and blood on the palms of his hands, and the rip in the knee of his already well-worn pants.

Sixth grade makes his throat hurt.

He leans his head against the window.

When he gets home, Kurt walks past his mother, who is on the couch watching One Life to Live and drinking from a clear glass bottle. Kurt washes his stinging hands carefully, dries them, and sits down next to his mother, hoping she'll notice. Hoping she'll say something.

But Kurt's mother is asleep now.

Her mouth is open.

She snores lightly.

The bottle tips in her hand.

Kurt sighs, sets the bottle on the beat-up coffee table, and starts his homework.

Halfway through his math homework, the room turns black.

Kurt is rushed into a bright tunnel, like a multicolored kaleidoscope. There's no floor, and Kurt is floating while the walls spin around him. It makes him feel like throwing up.

Next to Kurt in the tunnel is his mother, and a man who looks like a bald Jesus. But Kurt doesn't believe in God. Why should he? The man and Kurt's mother are holding hands and flying. They look happy. Kurt yells, but no sound comes out. He wants it to stop.

He feels the pencil fall from his fingers.

Feels his body slump to the arm of the couch.

Tries to sit up, but with all the whirling colors around him, he can't tell which way is upright. He over compensates and falls the other way, onto his mother.

The colours stop, and everything goes black.

Kurt hears his mother grumbling.

Feels her shove him.

Slowly the room comes into focus again, and Kurt's mother slaps Kurt in the face.

"Get offa me," his mother says. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Kurt sits up and looks at his mother. His stomach churns, and he feels dizzy from the colours. "I feel sick," he whispers, and then he stands up and stumbles to the bathroom to vomit.

When he peers out, pale and shaky, his mother is gone from the couch, retired to her bedroom.

_Thank God,_ Kurt thinks. He splashes cold water on his face.

**December 1, 2006, 7:29 A. M.**

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A U-Haul truck pulls up next door. Two men and a girl Kurt's age climb out and sink into the snow-covered driveway. Kurt watches them from his bedroom window.

The girl is dark-haired and pretty.

Kurt wonders if she'll be snooty, like all the other kids who call Kurt names at school. Maybe, since this new girl lives next to Kurt on the wrong side of town, they'll call her names too.

However, she's really pretty.

Pretty enough to make a difference.

Kurt dresses hurriedly, puts on his boots and coat, and marches next door to have the first chance to get to the girl before the North Siders get to her. Kurt's desperate for a friend.

"You guys want some help?" Kurt asks in a voice more confident than he feels.

The girl stops in her tracks. A smile deepens the dimples in her cheeks, and she tilts her head to the side. "Hi," she says in a small voice. "I'm Rachel Berry."

Rachel's chocolate brown eyes sparkle.

Kurt's heart leaps. He has finally made a friend.

"I'm Kurt Hummel." Kurt replied with enthusiasm and shakes her hand.

The two men come out and Rachel introduces us to them, "These are my dads, Leroy and Hiram." She said, as the two men shook his hand.

"You have two dads?" Kurt asked her.

"Yes, they are what people call gay." She said. "It means that someone of one gender likes the person of the same gender."

He was happy that there were people like him around. He was always teased for being gay. He didn't know why he was, he has just always know that he was.

"Why don't you two kids go play in the backyard for a while?" Leroy suggested to the two thirteen year old children.

Rachel grabbed Kurt's hand eagerly and dragged him to the back yard.

**December 18, 2006, 7:34 P. M.**

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Kurt is thirteen.

He doesn't have a sleeping bag, but Rachel has an extra that Kurt can use. Kurt sets his plastic grocery bag on the floor by the couch in Rachel's living room.

Inside the bag: a hand-made birthday gift for Rachel, Kurt's pajamas, and a toothbrush.

He's nervous. But Rachel is chattering enough for both of them, waiting for Rachel's other new friend, Santana Lopez, to show up.

Yes, that Santana Lopez.

Santana of the Lima North Side Lopez.

Apparently, Santana Lopez is also the president of the Make Kurt Hummel Miserable Club. Kurt wipes his sweating hands on his jeans.

When Santana arrives, Rachel doesn't fawn over her. Kurt nods hello.

Santana smirks. Tries to whisper something to Rachel, but Rachel ignores her and says, "Hey! Let's do Kurt hair." he instinctively threw his hands up to his hair. Rachel knows that Kurt doesn't like it when people touch his hair.

Santana throws a daggered look at Rachel.

Rachel smiles brightly at Kurt, asking her with her eyes if it's okay.

Kurt squelches a grin, and Santana shrugs and pretends like she doesn't mind after all.

The three teenagers slowly grow more comfortable, or maybe just resigned, with one another.

Even though Kurt knows it's killing her. The girls put on makeup and watch Rachel's favorite movies of old Broadway Shows, some of which Kurt had never heard of before. And then they play truth or dare.

Rachel alternates: truth, dare, truth, dare.

Santana always picks truth.

And then there's Kurt.

Kurt never picks truth.

He's a dare boy.

That way, nobody gets inside.

He can't afford to let anyone inside.

They might find out about his secret.

The giggles become hysterics when Santana's dare for Kurt is to run outside through the snow barefoot, around to the backyard, take off all of his clothes except for his underwear, and make a snow angel.

Kurt does not have a problem doing that.

Because, really, what does he have to lose?

He'll take that dare over giving up his secrets any day.

Santana watches Kurt, arms folded in the cold night air, and with a sneer on her face, while Rachel giggles and helps Kurt get his sweatshirt and jeans back on his wet body.

They trudge back inside for popcorn.

**11:34 P. M.**

The noise level in the living room of Rachel's house fades along with the lights after Leroy stomps to the doorway and hollers at the three teenagers to be quiet and get to sleep.

Kurt zips up the musty-smelling sleeping bag and closes his eyes, but he is too hyper to sleep after that exhilarating naked snow angel. He had a fun evening despite Santana. He learned what it's like to be a rich kid (sounds nice for about a day, but too many stinking lessons), and that Finn Hudson is supposedly the hottest boy in the class (in Rachel's mind that is, and Kurt has to silently agree with his best friend), and what people like Santana do four times a year (they take vacations to exotic places). Who knew?

Now the hushed giggles subside around him, and Kurt opens his eyes to stare at the dark ceiling. He is glad to be here, even though Santana teases him about his clothes. Santana even had the nerve to ask Kurt why he never wears anything new. But Rachel shut her up with a sudden exclamation: "Kurt, you look simply stunning with your hair styled like that. Doesn't he, Santana?"

For the first time ever, Kurt's hair is styled a way he liked. Upward in a neat fashion. Rachel had given him one of her dads old hair gel containers that they keep in abundance at her house. She said how they enjoyed using it and figured that Kurt would like it too. Rachel had taught him how to style it by what she remembered her dads doing when they lived at their old house. He had loved it and only uses it on special occasions.

He has to pee, but he is afraid to get up, in case Rachel's dad, Leroy, hears him and he begins to yell at him again. He rests quietly like the other girls, listening to them breathe as they drift off to sleep. Santana is in the middle, curled on her side facing Rachel, her back to Kurt.

**12:14 A. M.**

The ceiling clouds over and disappears. Kurt blinks and he is at school, in civics class.

_He looks around and realizes he is not in his normal fourth-period class, but in the class that follows his. He stands at the back of the room. There are no empty seats. Mr. Montgomery, the teacher, drones about the judicial branch of government and what the Supreme Court justices wear under their robes. No one seems surprised that Mr. Montgomery is teaching them this. Everyone knows of his obsession with law. Some of the kids take notes._

_Kurt looks around at the faces in the room. In the third row, seated at the center desk, is Santana. Santana has a dreamy look on her face. She is staring at someone in the next row, one seat forward. As the teacher talks, Santana stands up slowly and approaches the person she's been staring at. From the back of the room, Kurt cannot see who it is._

_The teacher doesn't appear to notice. Santana kneels next to the desk and touches the person's hand. In slow motion, the person turns to Santana, touches her cheek, and then leans forward. The two of them kiss. After a moment, they both rise to their feet, still kissing. When they part, Kurt still can see the face of Santana's kissing partner. Santana leads her partner by the hand to the front of the room and opens the door of the supply closet. The bell rings, and like ants, the students crowd at the door to leave._

The ceiling in Rachel Berry's living room reappears as Santana sighs and flops onto her stomach in the sleeping bag next to Kurt. _Cripes!_ thinks Kurt. He looks at the clock. Its 1:23 A. M.

**1:24 A. M.**

Kurt rolls to his side and he's walking into a forest.

_It's dark from shade, not night. A few rays of weak sunlight slip through the tree cover. Walking in front of Kurt is Rachel. They walk for what seems to be a mile or more, and suddenly a rushing river appears a few steps in front of them. Rachel stops and cups her ear, listening for something. She calls out in a desperate voice, "Beth!" Over and over, Rachel calls the name, until the forest rings with her voice. _

_Rachel walks along the high bank and stumbles over a tree root. Kurt bumps into her, falls, and then Rachel helps him up. She gives Kurt a puzzled look and says, "You've never been here." Rachel turns back to her search for Beth, her cries growing louder._

_There is a splash in the river, and a little girl appears above the surface, bobbing and moving swiftly in the current. Rachel runs along the bank and cries, "Beth! Get out of there! Beth!"_

_The girl grins and chokes on the water. She goes under and resurfaces. Rachel is frantic. She reaches out her hand to the girl, but it makes no difference the bank is too high, the river too wide for her to come close to reaching her. She is crying now. Kurt registers her appearance: she has dark brown, curly hair and bright hazel eyes. She can't be more than eight years old._

_Kurt watches, his heart pounding. The girl is still grinning and choking, falling under the water. She is drowning._

"_Help her!" Screams Rachel. "Save her!"_

_Kurt leaps toward the girl in the water, but he lands on the bank in the same spot he took off from. He tries again as Rachel screams, but the results are the same._

_The girl's eyes are closed now. Her grin has turned eerie. From the water behind the girl, an enormous Great White shark bursts above the surface, mouth open, hundreds of sharp teeth gleaming. It closes its mouth around the little girl and disappears._

Rachel sits up in her sleeping bag and screams.

Kurt screams too, but it catches in his throat.

His voice is hoarse.

His fingers are numb.

His body shakes from the nightmare.

The two friends look at each other in the darkness, while Santana stirs, groans, and goes back to sleep.

"Are you okay?" Kurt whispers, sitting up.

Rachel nods, breathing hard. She whisper-laughs, embarrassed. Her voice shakes. "I'm sorry I woke you. Bad dream." She says.

Kurt hesitates. "You want to talk about it?" He asks. His mind is racing.

"Nah. Go back to sleep." Rachel rolls to her side. Santana stirs, rolls a few inches closer to Rachel, and is quiet again.

Kurt glances at the clock. 3:42 a. m. He is exhausted. He drifts off to sleep.

**3:51 A. M.**

He is jolted awake when he falls into a huge, beautiful bedroom.

_There are framed posters of Robert Pattinson and Taylor Lautner on the walls. At a desk sits Santana, doodling on the edge of her notebook. Kurt tries to blink himself out of the room. He feels himself sit up in the sleeping bag, but his motions don't affect what he sees. He lies back down, resigned to watch._

_Santana is drawing hearts. Kurt walks toward her. He says, "Santana," but no sound comes out. When someone knocks on the bedroom window, Santana looks over and smiles. _

"_Help me open this window, will you?" she asks him. It's the nicest thing she has ever said to him, and this confuses him._

_Kurt stares at Santana. Santana stares back, then points to the window with a jerk of her head. Kurt, feeling compelled, stumbles over to the window next to Santana and they open it. Rachel climbs in._

_She is naked from the waist up._

_And has breasts the size of watermelons._

_The breasts sway from side to side when Rachel scrambles over the sill._

_She walks through Kurt and stands shyly in front_ _of Santana._

_Kurt tries to turn away, but he can't. He waves a hand in front of Rachel's face, but Rachel doesn't respond. Santana winks at Kurt and folds Rachel into her arms. They embrace and kiss. Kurt rolls his eyes, and suddenly all three are back in Mr. Montgomery civics classroom. Once again, Santana is embracing someone in the aisle. It's Rachel. She leads Rachel to the front of the room. Kurt can see that no one else in the class gives an ounce of notice to the naked Rachel and her enormous_ _breasts._

_Kurt sits up in his sleeping bag again and shakes his head wildly. He feels his head banging on the ground as he falls backwards, but he is unable to remove himself from the classroom. He is forced not only to be there, but also to watch._

_Santana glides to the supply closet and leads Rachel in there with her. Kurt, against his wishes, follows. Santana closes the door once Rachel and Kurt are inside, and Santana starts kissing Rachel on the lips again._

_Kurt lunges in her sleeping bag blindly. And kicks Santana, hard._

And Kurt is back in Rachel's living room.

Santana sits up, hair disheveled, and scrambles around to look at Kurt. "What the hell did you do that for?" Santana is furious.

Feigning sleep, Kurt peers out of one eye. "Sorry," he mumbles. "There was a spider crawling over your sleeping bag. I saved your life."

"What?" She shrieked, frantically looking around her sleeping bag looking for the spider.

"Never mind, he's gone."

"Oh, great. Like I'm gonna get back to sleep now." She fumed and laid back down on her sleeping bag.

Kurt grins in the darkness. Its 5:51 A. M.

**7:45 A. M.**

Something nudges Kurt's legs. He opens his eyes, wondering where he is. Its pitch dark. Rachel turns the sleeping bag flap off Kurt's head. "Wake up, sleepyhead. The sunlight is blinding."

"Mmph," Kurt grunts. Slowly he sits up.

Rachel is balancing on her haunches, eyeing him, one brow raised.

Kurt remembers. Does Rachel?

"Did you sleep well?" Rachel asks.

Kurt's stomach twists. "Um, yeah." He gauges Rachel's reaction. "Did you?"

Rachel smiles. "Like a baby. Even on this hard floor."

"Ah, hmm. Well, that's great." Kurt scrambles to his feet and untwists from his pajamas. "Where's Santana?" he asks.

"She left about ten minutes ago. She was acting weird. Said she forgot she had a piano lesson at eight." Rachel snorts. "Duh."

Kurt laughs weakly. He's starving. The two teens fix breakfast. Rachel doesn't appear to remember her nightmare.

Kurt can't forget it.

As they munch on toast, Kurt steals a glance at Rachel's chest. Her breasts are the size of half an apple, each.

Kurt goes home, falls into bed, thinking about the strange night. Wondering if this ever happens to anyone else. Knowing, deep down, it probably doesn't.

He falls into a hard sleep until late afternoon.

Decides sleepovers are not for him.

They'll never be for him.

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**That's all she wrote guys! I do so hope that you enjoyed this chapter! Blaine will appear next chapter! Or should...lol. Please review as they mean the world to me!**

**Never step on a Hippogriff's hoof**

**LatinMagicWriter is on fire**


	3. And Picks Up Speed

**And Picks Up Speed**

**Okay people! As promised last chapter, Blaine does make an appearance with a AVPMS refrence! No dreams this chapter.**

_**Its time for a Glee-wind **_

_**Previously on Wake:**_

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He is jolted awake when he falls into a huge, beautiful bedroom.

_There are framed posters of Robert Pattinson and Taylor Lautner on the walls. At a desk sits Santana, doodling on the edge of her notebook. Kurt tries to blink himself out of the room. He feels himself sit up in the sleeping bag, but his motions don't affect what he sees. He lies back down, resigned to watch._

_Santana is drawing hearts. Kurt walks toward her. He says, "Santana," but no sound comes out. When someone knocks on the bedroom window, Santana looks over and smiles. _

"_Help me open this window, will you?" she asks him. It's the nicest thing she has ever said to him, and this confuses him._

_Kurt stares at Santana. Santana stares back, then points to the window with a jerk of her head. Kurt, feeling compelled, stumbles over to the window next to Santana and they open it. Rachel climbs in._

_She is naked from the waist up._

_And has breasts the size of watermelons._

_The breasts sway from side to side when Rachel scrambles over the sill._

_She walks through Kurt and stands shyly in front_ _of Santana._

_Kurt tries to turn away, but he can't. He waves a hand in front of Rachel's face, but Rachel doesn't respond. Santana winks at Kurt and folds Rachel into her arms. They embrace and kiss. Kurt rolls his eyes, and suddenly all three are back in Mr. Montgomery civics classroom. Once again, Santana is embracing someone in the aisle. It's Rachel. She leads Rachel to the front of the room. Kurt can see that no one else in the class gives an ounce of notice to the naked Rachel and her enormous_ _breasts._

_Kurt sits up in his sleeping bag again and shakes his head wildly. He feels his head banging on the ground as he falls backwards, but he is unable to remove himself from the classroom. He is forced not only to be there, but also to watch._

_Santana glides to the supply closet and leads Rachel in there with her. Kurt, against his wishes, follows. Santana closes the door once Rachel and Kurt are inside, and Santana starts kissing Rachel on the lips again._

_Kurt lunges in her sleeping bag blindly. And kicks Santana, hard._

And Kurt is back in Rachel's living room.

Santana sits up, hair disheveled, and scrambles around to look at Kurt. "What the hell did you do that for?" Santana is furious.

Feigning sleep, Kurt peers out of one eye. "Sorry," he mumbles. "There was a spider crawling over your sleeping bag. I saved your life."

"What?" She shrieked, frantically looking around her sleeping bag looking for the spider.

"Never mind, he's gone."

"Oh, great. Like I'm gonna get back to sleep now." She fumed and laid back down on her sleeping bag.

Kurt grins in the darkness. Its 5:51 A. M.

**7:45 A. M.**

Something nudges Kurt's legs. He opens his eyes, wondering where he is. Its pitch dark. Rachel turns the sleeping bag flap off Kurt's head. "Wake up, sleepyhead. The sunlight is blinding."

"Mmph," Kurt grunts. Slowly he sits up.

Rachel is balancing on her haunches, eyeing him, one brow raised.

Kurt remembers. Does Rachel?

"Did you sleep well?" Rachel asks.

Kurt's stomach twists. "Um, yeah." He gauges Rachel's reaction. "Did you?"

Rachel smiles. "Like a baby. Even on this hard floor."

"Ah, hmm. Well, that's great." Kurt scrambles to his feet and untwists from his pajamas. "Where's Santana?" he asks.

"She left about ten minutes ago. She was acting weird. Said she forgot she had a piano lesson at eight." Rachel snorts. "Duh."

Kurt laughs weakly. He's starving. The two teens fix breakfast. Rachel doesn't appear to remember her nightmare.

Kurt can't forget it.

As they munch on toast, Kurt steals a glance at Rachel's chest. Her breasts are the size of half an apple, each.

Kurt goes home, falls into bed, thinking about the strange night. Wondering if this ever happens to anyone else. Knowing, deep down, it probably doesn't.

He falls into a hard sleep until late afternoon.

Decides sleepovers are not for him.

They'll never be for him.

_**And that's what you missed on GLEE!**_

**Words: 4,025**

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**June 7, 2009**

Kurt is sixteen. He buys his own clothing now. Often he buys his own food, too. The welfare check covers the rent and the booze, and not much else.

Two years ago, Kurt started working a few hours after school and on the weekends at Lima Nursing Home. Now he works full-time over the summer.

The office staff and the other aides at Lima Home like Kurt, especially during school holidays, because he'll pick up anybody's shifts, day or night, so they can take a last-minute sick day or vacation. Kurt needs the money, and they know it.

He's determined to go to college. He wants to go to NYADA with Rachel. He wants to make it big on Broadway one day. His dream is to get the part of Tony in a reproduction of West Side Story with Rachel as Maria, for she is the only girl Kurt could possibly kiss without wanting to puke.

Five days a week or more, Kurt puts on his hospital scrubs and takes a bus to the nursing home. He likes old people. They don't sleep soundly.

Kurt and Rachel are still friends and next-door neighbors. They spend a lot of time at Kurt's house, waiting for Kurt's mother to pass out in her bedroom before they watch movies of some Broadway play and talk about boys. They talk about other things too, like why Rachel's father, Leroy, is so angry all the time, and why Rachel's other dad, Hiram, doesn't like company. Mostly, Kurt thinks, it's just because they're grouchy people. Plain and simple. Whenever Rachel asks if she can have Kurt sleep over, her Daddy Hiram says, "You just had a sleepover on your birthday." Rachel doesn't bother to remind him that that was four years ago.

Kurt thinks about Beth and wonders if Rachel really is an only child. But Rachel doesn't seem to talk about anything with sharp edges. Maybe she's afraid they might poke into her and then she'd burst.

Rachel and Santana are also still friends. Santana's parents are still rich. Santana plays tennis. She is the head cheerleader with her best friend Brittany. Her parents have condominiums in Vegas, Marco Island, Vail, and somewhere in Greece. Santana mostly hangs out with other rich kids. And then there's Rachel.

Kurt does not mind being with Santana. Santana still can't stand Kurt. Kurt thinks he knows the real reason why, and it doesn't have anything to do with having money.

* * *

**June 25, 2009, 11:15 P. M.**

After working a record eleven evenings straight, and being caught by old Mr. Wyane recurring nightmare about World War II seven of those eleven evenings, Kurt collapses on the couch and kicks his shoes off. By the number of empty bottles on the ring-stained coffee table, he assumes his mother is in her bedroom, down for the count.

Rachel lets herself in. "Can I crash here?" Her eyes are rimmed in red.

Kurt sighs inwardly. He wants to sleep. "Course. You okay with the couch?" he asks his friend.

"Sure. Thanks." She replied as she flops herself onto the dainty couch.

Kurt relaxes. Rachel on the couch would work fine.

Rachel sniffles loudly.

"So, what's wrong?" Kurt asks, trying to put as much sympathy in his voice as he can muster. It's enough.

"Dads yelling again. I got asked out. Dads say no." She states.

Kurt perks up. "Who asked you out?"

"Jesse. From the body shop." She replies in a dreamy voice.

"You mean that old guy?" Kurt amends.

Rachel bristles. "He's twenty-two."

"You're sixteen! And he looks older than that."

"Not up close. He's cute. He has a cute ass." Kurt has to silently agree with that statement.

"Maybe he plays Dance Dance Revolution at the arcade."

Rachel giggles. Kurt smiles.

"So. You got any liquor around here?" Rachel asks innocently.

Kurt laughs. "There's an understatement. Whaddya want, beer?" He looks at the bottles on the table. "Schnapps? Whiskey? Double-Jesseff vodka?"

"Got any of that cheap grape wine the actors in Broadway drink before they go on stage?"she asks.

"As long as there is no cough syrup, crushed Oreo cookies and whatever the hell else you put in that one cocktail." Kurt says, referring to Rachel Berry's House Party Train-wreck Extravaganza.

"God no, never again." Rachel replies, and the two friends laugh.

"At your service." Kurt hauls himself off the couch and looks for clean glasses. The kitchen is a mess. Kurt has barely been here the past two weeks. He finds two sticky, mismatched glasses in the sink and washes them out, then searches through his mother's stash for her cheap wine assortment. "Ah, here it is. Boones Farm, right?" He unscrews the bottle and pours two glasses full, not waiting for an answer from Rachel, and then puts the bottle back in the fridge.

Rachel flips on the TV. She takes a glass from Kurt. "Thanks."

Kurt sips the sweet wine and makes a face. "So what are you gonna do about Jesse?" He thinks there's a country song in that sentence somewhere.

"Go out with him." She replies simply.

"Your dads are gonna kill you if they find out."

"Yeah, well. What else is new?" They both settle on the creaky couch and put their feet on the coffee table, deftly pushing the mess of bottles to the center of it so they can stretch out.

The TV drones. The friends sip their wine and get silly. Kurt gets up, rummages around in his bedroom, and returns with snacks.

"Gross, you keep Doritos in your bedroom?" She asks.

"Emergency stash. For nights such as these." _Since Mother can't be bothered to buy any actual food at the grocery store when she goes there for booze._ Kurt thinks.

"Ahh." Rachel nods.

**12:30 A. M.**

Kurt is asleep on the couch. He doesn't dream. Never dreams.

**5:02 A. M.**

Kurt, forced awake, catapults into Rachel's dream. It's the one by the river. Again. Kurt's been here twice since the first time, when they were thirteen.

Kurt, blind to the room his physical body is in, tries to stand. If he can feel his way to his bedroom and close the door before he starts going numb, he might get enough distance to break the connection. He feels with his toes for the bottles on the floor, and goes around them. He reaches out for the wall and finds his way into the hallway as he and Rachel are walking through the forest in Rachel's dream. Kurt reaches for the door frames first his mother's bedroom (hush, don't bump the door), then the bathroom, and then his room. He makes it inside, turns, and closes the door just as Rachel and Kurt approach the riverbank.

The connection is lost.

Kurt breathes a sigh of relief. He looks around, blinks in the dark as his eyesight returns, crawls into bed, and sleeps.

**9:06 A. M.**

When he wakes, both his mother and Rachel are in the kitchen. The living room is cleared of bottles. Rachel is drying a sink full of dishes, and Kurt's mother is fixing her homemade morning drink: vodka and orange juice on ice. On the stove is a skillet covered by a paper plate. Two pieces of buttered toast, two eggs over easy, and a small fortune of crisp bacon rest on a second paper plate, next to the skillet. Kurt's mother picks up a piece of bacon, takes her drink, and disappears back into her bedroom without a word.

"Thanks Rachel, you didn't have to do this. I was planning on cleaning today."

Rachel is cheerful. "It's the least I can do. Did you sleep well? When did you go to bed?"

Kurt peeks in the skillet, thinking, discovering hash browns. Wow! "Um not long ago. It was close to daylight. But I was so tired."

"You've been working ridiculous hours Kurt."

"Yeah, well. NYADA, remember? One day. How did you sleep?" he asks.

"Pretty good." She hesitates, like she might say something else, but doesn't.

Kurt takes a bite of food. He's famished. "Did you have sweet dreams?"

Rachel glances at Kurt, then picks up another dish and wipes it with the towel. "Not really."

Kurt concentrates on the food, but his stomach flips. He waits, until the silence grows awkward. "You want to talk about it?" he asks her.

Rachel is silent for a long time. "Not really. No." she says finally.

* * *

**August 30, 2009**

It is the first day of school. Kurt and Rachel are juniors. They wait for the bus on the corner of their street. A handful of other high school kids stand with them. Some are anxious. Some are terribly short. Kurt and Rachel ignore the freshmen.

The bus is late. Luckily for Blaine Anderson, the bus is later than he is. Kurt and Rachel know Blaine, he's been trouble in school since ninth grade. Kurt doesn't remember him much before, the word was that he flunked down into their grade. He was often late. Always looked stoned. Now, he looks about six inches taller than he did in the spring. His gold-red hair hangs in greasy ringlets in front of his eyes, and he walks with shoulders curved, as if he were more comfortable being short. He stands away from everyone and smokes a cigarette.

Kurt catches his eye by accident, so he nods hello. He looks down at the ground quickly. Blows smoke from his lips. Tosses the cigarette down and grinds it into the gravel.

Rachel pokes Kurt in the ribs. "Lookie, it's your boyfriend."

Kurt rolls his eyes. "Be nice." They both know that Blaine is as straight as an arrow. Everyone knows that Kurt is the only out guy at their school. Though he has his suspicions on some of his classmates, Santana being one of them.

Rachel observes him carefully while he's not looking. "Well. His pox-face cleared up over the summer. Or maybe the new fancy do hides it."

"Stop." hisses Kurt. He's giggling, and feeling bad about it. But he's looking at him. He's got to be about as dirt poor as Kurt, judging by his clothes. "He's just a loner. And quiet."

"A stoner, maybe, who has a boner for you." Rachel giggles.

Kurt narrows his eyes, and his face grows sober.

"Rachel, stop it. I'm serious. You're turning mean like Santana." Kurt glances at Blaine. His jeans are too short. He knows what it's like to be teased for not having cool clothes and stuff. He feels himself wanting to defend him.

"He probably has shitty welfare parents, like me."

Rachel is quiet. "I'm not like Santana."

"So why do you hang with her?" Kurt asks her.

She shrugs and thinks about it for a minute. "I dunno. 'Cause she's rich."

Finally the bus comes. The ride is forty-five minutes to school, even though the school is less than five miles away, because of all the stops. Juniors like Kurt and Rachel are considered by the unwritten bus rules to be upperclassmen. So they sit near the back. Blaine passes by and falls into the seat behind them. Kurt can feel him push his knees up against his back. He peers through the crack between her seat back and the window. Blaine's chin is propped up by his hand. His eyes are closed, nearly hidden beneath his greasy curls.

"Fuck," Kurt mutters under his breath.

Thankfully, Blaine Anderson doesn't dream.

Not on the bus, anyway.

Not in chemistry class, either.

Or English.

Nor does anyone else.

Kurt arrives home after the first day of school, relieved.

**October 16, 2006, 7:42 P. M.**

* * *

Rachel and Jesse knock on Kurt's bedroom window. He opens it a crack. Jesse's dressed up, wearing a thin, black leather tie, and Rachel has on a slinky black dress with a shawl and a hideously large orchid pinned to it.

"I saw your light on in here," explains Rachel, regarding the unusual visit. "Come to the homecoming dance, with us, Kurtie! We're not staying long. Please?"

Kurt sighs. "You know I don't have anything to wear."

Rachel holds up a white and black suit so Kurt can see it. He begins to squeal. "That looks like a copy of the outfit John Travolta wore in Saturday Night Fever!" He takes the outfit out of her hands and studies it closely.

Rachel is laughing happily at this, "I bet this'll fit you. I got it from our attic. You can keep it, I don't think my dads will notice it's missing. And I've got shoes that'll go with it." Rachel grins evilly, holding up a pair of shiny black platform shoes.

"I haven't washed my hair or anything." Kurt complains as he runs a hand through his hair.

"You look fine, Kurt." Jesse says. "Come on. Don't make me sit there with a bunch of teenybopper airheads all night. Have pity on an old man."

Kurt smirks. Rachel slaps Jesse on the arm.

He meets them at the front door when he is done getting dressed.

"I feel like a million bucks." He says as he climbs into Jesse's car and they drive to McKinley.

**9:12 P. M.**

Kurt drinks his third cup of punch while Jesse and Rachel dance for the billionth time. He sits down at a table, alone.

**9:18 P. M.**

A sophomore girl, known only to Kurt as Sugar, who claims to be a self-diagnosed Aspergers, asks Kurt to dance.

He regards her for a moment. "Why the fuck not." he says. He's a head taller than her.

She rests her head on his chest and grabs his ass.

He pushes her off of him, muttering under his breath, finds Rachel, who was still dancing with Jesse.

"I'm leaving Ray." He says bitterly to her. "I've got a ride home." He adds. Rachel waves blissfully from Jesse's arms.

Kurt attacks the back door of the school gym and finds himself in a heavy cloud of smoke. He realizes he's found the Goths hangout. Who knew?

"Oof," someone grunts. He keeps walking, muttering sorry to whomever it was he hit with the flying door.

After a mile wearing Rachel's dads a little too small shoes, his feet are killing him. He takes off the shoes and walks in the grassy yards, watching the houses evolve from nice to nasty as he goes along. The grass is already wet with dew, and the yards are getting messier. His feet are freezing, his thin socks not giving him much protection.

Someone falls in step beside him, so quietly that he doesn't notice him until he's there. He's carrying a skateboard. A second and third follow suit, then lay their boards down and push off, hanging slightly in front of Kurt.

"Jeez!" he says, surrounded. "Scare a guy half to death, why don't you."

Blaine Anderson shrugs. The other guys move ahead. "Long walk," says Blaine. "You, uh-" he clears his throat "okay?"

"Fine," he says. "You?" He doesn't remember ever hearing him speak before.

"Get on." He sets his board down, taking Kurt's shoes from his hand. "You'll rip your feet to shreds. There's glass and shit on the ground."

Kurt looks at the board, and then up at him. He's wearing a knit beanie with a hole in it. "I don't know how."

He flashes a half grin. Shoves a long golden lock of hair under the beanie. "Just stand. Bend. Balance. I'll push you."

He blinks. And then gets on the board.

Weird.

This is not happening.

They don't talk.

The guys weave in and out the rest of the way, and take off at the corner by Kurt's house. Blaine pushes him to his front porch so he can hop off. He sets his shoes on the step, picks up the board, nods, and catches up with his friends.

"Thanks, Blaine." Kurt says, but he's gone in the dark already. "That was really sweet." he adds, to no one.

They don't acknowledge each other, or the event, for a very long time.

* * *

**So! I told you guys we would have some Blainage this chapter! I hope you all enjoyed the little West Side Story, Rachel Berry's House Party Train-Wreck Extravaganza, and Saturday Night Fever references I made. Some of you pointed out that Rachel should have been replaced with Brittany for last chapter. And it will later be Brittana, just wait till chapter 4 or 5 when they go to Stratford for a fieldtrip and Kurt has to room with Santana because the boys didn't want him in their room. Then it gets to be really good Brittana. The only reason its Ratana/Santahel is purely for plot. you'll see... So I want to know, do you like the whole Rachel and Jesse plot now, or would you like to see some Finchel fluff? So go vote on my poll on it.**

**And please review, I get all these alerts but it makes me sad when no one reviews because I feel that I'm not holding you guys in suspense enough. I love it when people tell me what they liked about my story.**

**So please review.**

**Beware of Garden Gnomes,**

**LatinMagicWriter is on fire**


	4. In Earnest

**In Earnest**

**Welcome back to another installment of Wake! We're in for a long chapter this time, which I feel is due for the short chapters we've been having lately. Blaine is back and we have some Brittana in store for us. We also have some Klaine action this chapter!**

**Also, we have some AVPMS references in store for this chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or Wake, I wouldn't be here if I was.**

**Words: 8,525**

**_Previously on Wake:_**

_Kurt attacks the back door of the school gym and finds himself in a heavy cloud of smoke. He realizes he's found the Goths hangout. Who knew?_

_"Oof," someone grunts. He keeps walking, muttering sorry to whomever it was he hit with the flying door._

_After a mile wearing Rachel's dads a little too small shoes, his feet are killing him. He takes off the shoes and walks in the grassy yards, watching the houses evolve from nice to nasty as he goes along. The grass is already wet with dew, and the yards are getting messier. His feet are freezing, his thin socks not giving him much protection._

_Someone falls in step beside him, so quietly that he doesn't notice him until he's there. He's carrying a skateboard. A second and third follow suit, then lay their boards down and push off, hanging slightly in front of Kurt._

_"Jeez!" he says, surrounded. "Scare a guy half to death, why don't you."_

_Blaine Anderson shrugs. The other guys move ahead. "Long walk," says Blaine. "You, uh-" he clears his throat "okay?"_

_"Fine," he says. "You?" He doesn't remember ever hearing him speak before._

_"Get on." He sets his board down, taking Kurt's shoes from his hand. "You'll rip your feet to shreds. There's glass and shit on the ground."_

_Kurt looks at the board, and then up at him. He's wearing a knit beanie with a hole in it. "I don't know how."_

_He flashes a half grin. Shoves a long golden lock of hair under the beanie. "Just stand. Bend. Balance. I'll push you."_

_He blinks. And then gets on the board._

_Weird._

_This is not happening._

_They don't talk._

_The guys weave in and out the rest of the way, and take off at the corner by Kurt's house. Blaine pushes him to his front porch so he can hop off. He sets his shoes on the step, picks up the board, nods, and catches up with his friends._

_"Thanks, Blaine." Kurt says, but he's gone in the dark already. "That was really sweet." he adds, to no one._

_They don't acknowledge each other, or the event, for a very long time._

* * *

**February 1, 2010**

Kurt is sixteen.

A boy named Sam Evans falls asleep in English class. Kurt watches his head nodding from across the room. He begins to sweat, even though the room is cold. It is 11:41 A. M. Seven minutes until the bell rings for lunch. Too much time.

He stands, gathers his books, and rushes for the door. "I feel sick." he says to the teacher. The teacher nods understandingly. Santana Lopez snickers from the back row. Kurt leaves the room and shuts the door. He leans against the cool tile wall, takes a deep breath, goes into the girls bathroom, and hides in a stall. The girls do not mind when he walks in. They know the boys will not allow him in theirs.

Nobody ever sleeps in the bathroom.

**Flashback**

* * *

**May 18, 2003**

Its Kurt's tenth birthday. Brittany Pierce falls asleep in school, her head on her pencil box. _She is floating, gliding. And then she is falling. Falling into a gorge. The face of a cliff streams by at a dizzying speed. Brittany looks at Kurt and screams. Kurt closes his eyes and feels sick._ They startle at the same time. The fourth graders all laugh.

Kurt decides not to hand out his precious birthday treat, after all.

That was after the train ride and the man in the underwear.

Kurt's had only a few close calls in school before high school. But the older he gets, the more often his classmates sleep in school. And the more kids sleep, the more of a mess it makes for Kurt. He has to get away, wake them up, or risk the consequences.

A year and a half to go.

And then.

College. A roommate. He hopes he could room with Rachel.

Kurt puts his head in his hands.

He leaves the bathroom after lunch and goes to his next class, grabbing a Milky Way bar on his way.

For two weeks afterward, Santana Lopez and her rich friends make puking noises when they pass Kurt in the hall.

**June 15, 2010**

* * *

Kurt is seventeen. He's working his ass off, taking as many shifts as he can.

Old Mr. Wyane is dying at the nursing home.

His dreams grow constant and terrible.

He doesn't wake easily.

As his body fades, the pull of his dreams grows eerily stronger. Now, if his door is open, Kurt can't enter that wing.

He hadn't planned for this.

He makes an odd request on every shift. "If you cover the east wing, I'll take the rest."

The other aides think he's afraid to see Mr. Wyane die.

Kurt doesn't have a problem with that.

**June 21, 2010, 9:39 P. M.**

* * *

Lima Home is short-staffed. It's summer. Three patients on the cusp of death. Two have Alzheimer's. One dreams, screams, and cries.

Someone has to empty bedpans. Hand out the night meds. Straighten up the rooms for the day.

Kurt approaches with caution. He stands in the west wing, looking into the east wing, and memorizes it. The right-hand wall has five doorways and six sets of handrails. The last door on the right is Mr. Wyane's. Ten steps farther is a wall, and the emergency exit door.

Some days, a cart stands between doorways three and four. Some days, wheelchairs collect anonymously between doorways one and two. A stretcher often rests in the east wing, but usually it's on the left side. Kurt would have to get a glimpse before entering the hallway, no matter the day. Because some days, most days, people travel up and down the hallway without pattern. And Kurt doesn't want to run into anyone in case he goes blind.

Tonight, the hallway is clear. Kurt noted earlier that the Thomson family came for a visit in the fourth room. He checks the record book and sees that they signed out. There are no other visitors recorded. It grows late. For Kurt, it's either get the work done, or get fired.

He enters the east wing, grabs the hall bar, and nearly doubles over.

**9:41 P. M.**

_The noise of the battle is overpowering. He hides with old Mr. Wyane in a foxhole on a beach that is littered with bodies and watered with blood. The scene is so familiar, Kurt could recite the conversation even the beat of the bullets by heart. And it always ends the same way, with arms and legs scattered, bones crunching underfoot, and Mr. Wyanes body breaking into tiny bits, crumbling off his trunk like cheese being grated from a slab, or like a leper, unraveling_.

Kurt tries walking normally down the hallway, gripping the handrail. He cannot concentrate enough to remember his count of doorways, the dream is so intense. He keeps walking, reaching, walking, until he hits the wall. He's losing the feeling in his fingers and feet. Wants to make it stop. He backs up eight, ten, maybe twelve steps, and falls to the ground outside Mr. Wyane's door. His head pounds now as he follows Mr. Wyane into battle.

He tries to find his door so he can close it. He tries, and he can't feel anything. He doesn't know if he's touching something, or nothing. He is paralyzed. Numb. Desperate.

_On the bloody beach, Mr. Wyane looks at him and beckons him to come with him. "Behind here. Well be safe behind here," he says._

"_No!" He tries to scream, but no sound comes out. He can't get his attention. "Not behind there!" He knows what will happen._

_Mr. Wyanes fingers drop off first._

_Then his nose and ears._

_He looks at Kurt._

_Like always._

_Like he's betrayed him._

"_Why didn't you tell me." he whispers._

_Kurt can't speak, can't move. Again and again, he fights, his head feeling like it might explode any moment. 'Just die, old man!' he wants to yell. 'I can't do this one anymore!' He knows it's almost over._

_And then, there is more. Something new._

_Mr. Wyane turns to him as his feet break free from his ankles and he reassembles on his stilty legs. His eyes are wide with terror, and the battle rages around them. "Come closer," he says. Fingerless, he shrugs the gun into his arms. His arm breaks off his shoulder as he does it, and it crumbles to the beach like powder. And then he starts crying. "Help me. Help me, Kurt."_

_Kurt's eyes widen. He sees the enemy, but he knows they can't see him. He is safe. He looks at the pleading eyes of Mr. Wyane._

_Lifts the gun._

_Points._

_And pulls the trigger._

**10:59 P. M.**

Kurt is curled on a portable stretcher in the east hallway when the roaring gunfire in old Mr. Wyane's dream stops abruptly. He blinks, his vision clears slowly, and he sees two Lima Home aides staring down at him. He sits up halfway. His head pounds.

"Careful, Kurt, honey," soothes a voice. "You were having a seizure or something. Let's wait for the doctor, okay?"

Kurt cocks his head and listens for the faint sound of beeping. A moment later, he hears it.

"Old Mr. Wyane is dead." He says, his voice rasping. He falls back on the stretcher and passes out.

**June 22, 2010**

* * *

The doctor says, "We need to do some tests. Do a CAT scan."

"No thank you," Kurt says. He is polite, but firm.

The doctor looks at Kurt's mother. "Mrs. Hummel?

Kurt's mother shrugs. She looks out the window. Her hands tremble as she fingers the zipper on her purse.

The doctor sighs, exasperated. "Ma'am," he tries again. "What if he has a seizure while he's driving? Or crossing a street? Please think about it."

Mrs. Hummel closes her eyes.

Kurt clears his throat. "May we go?"

The doctor gives Kurt a long look. He glances at Kurt's mother, who is looking down at her lap. Then looks at Kurt again. "Of course," he says softly. "Can you promise me something? Not just for your safety, but for the safety of others on the road, please, don't drive."

_It won't happen when I'm driving,_ he longs to tell him, just so he doesn't worry so much. "Sure. I promise. We don't have a car, anyway."

Mrs. Hummel stands. Kurt stands. The doctor stands too. "Call our office if it happens again, wont you?" He holds out his hand, and Kurt shakes it.

"Yes," Kurt lies. They walk back to the waiting room.

Kurt sends her mother outside to the bus stop. "I'll be right there."

Her mother leaves the office. Kurt pays the bill. It's $120, pulled out of his college stash. He can only imagine how much a CAT scan would cost. And he's not about to spend another cent just to hear somebody tell him he's crazy.

He can get that opinion for free. Thank you very much.

Kurt waits for his mother to ask what that was all about. But he may as well wait for flowers to grow on the moon. Kurt's mother simply doesn't care about anything that has to do with Kurt. She has never really cared.

And that's fucking sad.

That's what Kurt thinks.

But it sure comes in handy, sometimes.

**June 28, 2010**

* * *

There's something about a doctor telling a teenager not to drive that makes it so important to do so. Just to prove him wrong.

Kurt and Rachel go see Jesse at the body shop. He sees them coming. "Here she is, kiddo." Jesse says, indicating the beautiful car next to him, patting her hood affectionately. He calls Kurt kiddo because Rachel is five months older than him. But he's taller than her, that's for sure.

Kurt nods and smiles. He runs his hand over the hood lightly, feeling the curves. It's the color of chocolate. It's older than Kurt. And it's beautiful.

Jesse hands Kurt the keys, and Kurt counts out one thousand, four hundred fifty dollars cash. "Be good to her," he says wistfully. "I started working on this car when she was seventeen years old and I was thirteen. She purrs now."

"I will." Kurt smiles. He climbs in the '77 Nova and starts her up.

"Her name's Ethel," adds Jesse. He looks a little embarrassed.

Rachel takes Jesse's oil-stained hand and squeezes it. "Kurt's a really good driver. He's driven my car a bunch of times. Ethel will be fine." She gives Jesse a quick kiss on the cheek. "See you tonight." She says with a demure smile.

Jesse winks. Rachel gets into her Tracer and Kurt slides behind the wheel of his new car. He pats the dashboard, and Ethel purrs. "Good girl, Ethel." he croons.

**June 29, 2010**

* * *

After the incident with Mr. Wyane, the Lima Home director made Kurt take a week off. When Kurt shuffled and hemmed about taking that much time off, the director promised him shifts on July 4 and Labor Day, where Kurt gets double pay. He is happy.

Kurt drives his new car on his first day back to work. He gives sponge baths and empties a dozen bedpans. For entertainment, he sings a mournful song from Les Miserables, changing the words to Empty pans and empty bladders.

_There's a grief that can't be spoken__  
There's a pain goes on and on  
Empty pans at empty bladders  
Now my friends are dead and gone_

Here they talked of revolution  
Here it was they lit the flame  
Here they sang about tomorrow  
And tomorrow never came.

From the table in the corner  
They could see a world reborn  
And they rose with voices ringing  
I can hear them now!  
The very words that they had sung  
Became their last communion  
On the lowly barricade..  
At dawn.  
Oh my friends, my friends forgive me.

That I live and you are gone  
There's a grief that can't be spoken  
There's a pain goes on and on

Phantom faces at the window  
Phantom shadows on the floor  
Empty pans at empty bladders  
Where my friends will meet no more.

Oh my friends, my friends, don't ask me  
What your sacrifice was for  
Empty pans at empty bladders  
Where my friends will sing no more...

Miss Sylvester, a schoolteacher who taught for forty-seven years before she retired, laughs for the first time in weeks. Kurt makes a mental note to bring in a new book to read to Miss Sylvester.

Miss Sylvester's only visitor is her younger sister, Sue, who is also the cheer coach at Kurt's school. Coach Sylvester calls Kurt Porcelain because of his flawless skin.

Miss Sylvester is also blind.

That just might be why she's Kurt's favorite.

**July 4, 2010, 10:15 p. M.**

* * *

Three Lima Home residents in their wheelchairs and Kurt, in an orange plastic bucket chair, sit in the dark nursing home parking lot. Waiting. Slapping mosquitoes. The fireworks are about to begin at Lima Park, a few blocks away.

Miss Sylvester is one of the residents, her gnarled hands curled in her lap, I. V. drip hanging from a stand next to her wheelchair. All of a sudden, she cocks her head and smiles wistfully. "Here they come." She says.

A moment later, the sky explodes in colour.

Kurt describes each one in detail to Miss Sylvester.

"A green sparkly porcupine," he says.

"Sparks rising from a magicians wand."

"A perfect circle of white light, which fades into a puddle and dries up."

After a brilliant burst of purple, Kurt jumps up. "Don't go anywhere, you three! I'll be right back." He runs inside to the therapy room, grabs a plastic tub, and runs back out.

"Here," he says breathlessly, taking Miss Sylvester's hand and carefully, gently, stretching out her curled fingers. He puts a Koosh Ball in the old woman's hands.

"That last one looked just like this."

Miss Sylvester's face lights up. "I think that's my favorite." She says.

**August 2, 2010, 11:11 P. M.**

* * *

Kurt leaves Lima Home and drives the four miles to his house. It's wicked hot out, and he chides Ethel mildly for not having air-conditioning. He rolls the windows down, loving the feeling of the hot wind on his face.

**11:18 P. M.**

He stops at a stop sign on Waverly Road, not far from home, and proceeds through the intersection.

**11:19 P. M.**

_And then he is in a strange house. In a dirty kitchen. _

_A huge, young_ _monster-man with knives for fingers approaches._

Kurt, blind to the road, stomps on the brake and flips the gearshift into neutral. He reaches to find the emergency brake and pulls, before he becomes paralyzed. This is a strong one.

_He pulls a vinyl-seated chair across the kitchen floor, picks it up, and whirls it around above his head._

But it isn't the emergency brake. It's the hood release.

_And then he lets go of the chair. It sails toward Kurt, clipping the ceiling fan._

Kurt doesn't know it's the hood.

_He looks around frantically to see what it will hit. Or who._

Kurt is numb. His foot slides off the brake pedal.

His car rolls off the road.

Slowly.

_But there is no one else. No one else but the monster-man with finger-knives, and Kurt. Until the door opens, and a middle-aged man appears. He walks through Kurt. The chair, sailing in slow motion, grows knives from its legs._

The car misses a mailbox.

_It strikes the middle-aged man in the chest and head. His head is sliced clean off and it rolls around on the floor in a circle._

The car comes to rest in a shallow drainage ditch in the front yard of a tiny, unkempt house.

_Kurt stares at the large young man with knives for fingers. He walks to the dead man's head and kicks it like a soccer ball. It crashes loudly through the window and there is a blinding flash of light_

**11:31 P. M.**

Kurt groans and opens his eyes. His head is against the steering wheel. He has a cut on his lip that is bleeding. And Ethel is decidedly not level. When he can see clearly, he looks out the windows, and when he can move again, he eases his way out his door. He walks around the car, sees that it is not injured, and that he is not stuck. He shuts the hood gently, gets into the car, and backs up slowly.

When he arrives in his driveway, he breathes a sigh of relief, and then memorizes the exact location of the parking brake by feel. He sees the keys dangling from the ignition. _Duh,_ he thinks.

Next time, he will be ready.

Maybe he should have bought an automatic.

He hopes to God it doesn't happen on a highway.

**12:46 A. M.**

Kurt lies awake in bed. Scared.

In the back of his mind, he hears the distinct sound of knives sharpening. The more he tries not to think about whose dream that might have been, the more he thinks about it. He can never drive that street again.

He wonders if he will end up like his friend Miss Sylvester from the nursing home, all alone with no one visiting except for Rachel.

Or dead in a car crash, because of this stupid dream curse.

**August 25, 2010**

* * *

Rachel brings in the mail to Kurt's. Kurt is wearing a T-shirt and boxer shorts. It's hot and humid.

"Schedules are here," Rachel says. "Senior year, baby! This is it! Then it's off to NYADA!" She says excitedly, bouncing on the heels of her feet like a three year old who has had too much sugar.

Excitedly, they open their schedules together. They lay them side-by-side on the coffee table and compare.

Their facial expressions go from excitement, to disappointment, and then excitement again.

"So, first period English and fifth period study hall. That's not terrible." Kurt says.

"And we have the same lunch," Rachel says. "Let me see what Santana has. I'll be right back." Rachel gets up to leave.

"You can call her from here, you know," Kurt says, rolling his eyes.

"I-I would, but..."

Kurt waits for Rachel to explain. Then it dawns on him.

"Oh," he says. "I get it. Caller ID. Sheesh, Rachel."

Rachel looks at her shoes, then slips out.

Kurt checks the freezer for ice cream. He eats it out of the carton. He feels like shit.

**September 6, 2010, 7:35 A. M.**

* * *

Rachel and Kurt drive separately to school, because Kurt has to work at 3 P. M. Kurt waves from the window when he hears Rachel's car horn beep. _This is it,_ he thinks.

Kurt is only mildly excited to start his senior year of high school. And he is not at all excited to have study hall right after lunch.

He brushes his teeth and grabs his backpack, checking the mirror briefly before heading out the door. He is stopped by the flashing red lights of his former bus, and he smirks when he sees the noobs all climbing the steps to board it. Most of them are dressed in the styles of five years ago, hand-me-downs, or second-hand thrift clothing. _Get jobs, and get the hell out of South Lima_, Kurt mutters. At least there's strength in numbers.

Ethel purrs.

Kurt continues when the red lights stop. A block before the bad house on Waverly Road, he turns to take a detour. He's not taking any chances. He slows as he sees someone walking towards him along the road, wearing a ratty backpack. At first, he doesn't recognize him.

And then, he does.

He looks different.

He's not carrying a skateboard.

"You missed it," Kurt says through the open window. "Get in. I'll drive you."

Blaine eyes him warily. His features have matured. He's wearing eyeglasses that remind Kurt of the ones that Harry Potter wears. His jaw is decidedly angular. He looks both thinner and more muscular at the same time. His hair, wavy at shoulder length, is layered slightly, no longer red-gold or greasy, but a dark brown, almost black colour. His long bangs that hung in his eyes last year is styled in a neat fashion. And it looks freshly washed. He hesitates, and then opens the passenger door.

"Thanks." His voice is low and gruff. "Jesus," he remarks as he tries to fit his knees inside.

Kurt reaches down between his legs. "Grab yours too," he says.

He raises a triangular eyebrow.

"Your seat adjustor, you ass. We have to pull them together. It's a bench seat. As you can see." They pull, and the seat moves back a notch. Kurt checks the clutch to make sure he can still reach. He shifts into first as Blaine shuts his door.

"You're on the wrong street." he remarks.

"I know that."

"I figured you were lost or something."

"Oh, puh-leeze. I-I take a detour. I don't drive on Waverly anymore. I'm superstitious."

He glances at him and shrugs. "Whatever."

They ride in awkward silence for five minutes, until Kurt rolls his eyes inwardly and says, "So. What's your schedule?"

"I have no idea."

"Okaaay." The conversation fizzles.

After a moment, he opens his backpack and takes out a sealed envelope. He rips it open as if it's a chore of great difficulty and looks over his schedule.

"English, Math, French, Industrial Tech, Lunch, Study Hall, Government, P. E." He sounds bored.

Kurt cringes. "Hmmm. Interesting."

"And yours?" He says it too politely, as if he is forced to chat with his grandmother.

"Its, ah, actually," he sighs, "pretty similar to that. Yeah."

He laughs. "Don't sound so fucking excited, Hummel. I'll let you cheat off my papers."

He smiles wryly. "Yeah, right! Like I'd want to."

He looks at her. "And your GPA is?"

"Four point oh." He sniffs.

"Well, then, of course you don't need help."

"What's yours?"

He shifts in the seat and shoves his schedule into his backpack. "I have no idea."

That was the most Blaine Anderson had ever spoken to Kurt in all the years he'd known him. Combined. Including the three miles on the skateboard.

**12:45 P. M.**

Kurt meets up with Rachel in Study Hall. Seniors have Study Hall in the library so they can access the books and computers and hopefully do actual work rather than sleep. Kurt hopes for the best and finds a table in the far corner of the room.

"How's it going?" Kurt asks.

"Decent," Rachel says. "The only class I have with Santana is English. Hey, did you see the new guy?"

"What new guy?"

"In English class."

Kurt looks puzzled. "I didn't notice."

Rachel looks around sneakily. "Oh, shit!" she whispers. "Here he comes."

Kurt glances up. Rachel is staring at him, not daring to turn around again. He nods in her direction. Kurt waves his fingers at him. To Rachel, he says, "Oh, you mean him?"

"You did NOT just wave to him."

"To who er, whom? Yeah, that's it. Whom?"

"The new guy! Aren't you listening to me?" Rachel bounces in her chair.

Kurt grins innocently. "Watch this." He gets up, walks to the table where the new guy sits, and pulls up a chair across from him so he can see Rachel watching.

"I have a question for you," Kurt says.

"I thought you didn't need my help." He replies, rummaging through his backpack.

"It's not that kind."

"Go ahead, then."

"Are you getting a lot of strange looks today, by any chance?"

He pulls his notebook out of his backpack, takes off his outer button-down shirt, leaving on a loose, white T-shirt. He folds the button-down haphazardly, sets it on top of his backpack, scoots his chair back, and lays his head on the shirt. His newly muscular arms reach around this makeshift pillow.

"I hadn't noticed," he says. He takes off his glasses and sets them off to the side.

Kurt nods thoughtfully. "I see. So you don't know what classes you have, you don't know your GPA, you don't notice all the girls drooling over your new look."

"That's bullshit," he says, closing his eyes.

"So what do you pay attention to?"

He opens his eyes. Lifts his head from his pillow. He looks at Kurt for a long time. His eyes are bright hazel. He's never noticed them before.

For a split second, Kurt thinks he sees something in them, but then it's gone.

"Pfft. You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he says.

Kurt flashes a crooked smile, shrugs, and shakes his head slightly, feeling warm. "Try me."

Blaine raises a skeptical eyebrow.

"You know sometime," Kurt says finally. He picks up his shirt and refolds it so the buttons turn in. "So you don't get a button impression on your face." he says.

"Thank you," Blaine says. His eyes don't leave his. He's searching them. His brow furrows.

Kurt clears his throat lightly. "So, uh, shall I break the news to Rachel that you're not a new guy?"

Blaine blinks. "What?"

"Half the girls in the school think you're a new student. Blaine, come on. You look a lot different from last year."

The words trail off his tongue and they sound wrong.

He gives him a confused look.

"What did you call me?"

Kurt's stomach lurches. "Um, Blaine?"

He isn't smiling. "Who do you think I am?"

Maybe he's in somebody's weird dream and he doesn't know it.

He panics.

"Oh, God, no," he whispers. He stands up abruptly and tries to get past him. Blaine catches Kurt's arm.

"Whoa, time out," he says. "Sit."

Tears pool in Kurt's eyes. He covers his mouth.

"Jesus, Kurt. I'm just playing with your mind a little. I'm sorry. Hey," he says.

He keeps hold of his wrist, lightly.

He feels like a fool.

"Come on, Hummel. Look at me, will you? Listen to me."

Kurt can't look at him. He sees Rachel, half-standing, peering over the bookshelves, a concerned look on her face. Kurt waves her away. Rachel sits down.

"Kurt."

"What, already," he says, growing hot. "And will you please let go of me before I call security?"

He drops his wrist like a baked potato.

His eyes widen.

"Forget it." He sighs. "I'm an asshole." He looks away.

Kurt walks back to his table and sits down miserably.

"What was that?" Rachel hisses.

Kurt looks at her and summons a calm smile. He shakes his head. "Nothing. The new guy just told me that," He stalls, pretending to search for a pen. "That, uh, I'm doing the advance math equations completely wrong. You know me. I hate to be wrong. Math's my best subject, you know." He pulls out a sheet of paper and opens his math book. "Now I've got to start all over."

"Sheesh, Kurt. You looked like he just threatened to kill you or something."

Kurt laughs. As if.

**1:30 P. M.**

Blaine tries to catch Kurt's eye in government class. He ignores him.

**2:20 P. M.**

P. E. is same sex this year. The students play rotating games of five-on-five basketball.

Kurt commits the most egregious foul Lima High School has ever seen. When he is able, the new guy stands up and insists it was his fault.

The P. E. Staff confer, and decide that it was indeed Kurt's fault. Coach Karofsky gives Blaine a hard look. He returns it, with interest.

**2:45 P. M.**

Kurt dries off hurriedly after his shower and slips into his scrubs for work. He's able to make it out of there before any of the football guys come in. The bell rings. He takes his stuff and jumps in his car so he's not late for work.

**8:01 P. M.**

Life is blissfully calm at Lima Home tonight. Kurt finishes his paperwork and his other duties on the floor early, so he can go to see Miss Sylvester.

Coach Sylvester is leaving for the night. She came in to visit Jean a few hours ago.

"See you tomorrow at school, Coach." Kurt says to her.

"The same to you Porcelain." She replies as she coos to her daughter that laid in her car seat.

He shuffles his feet and clears his throat so Miss Sylvester knows Kurt is there.

"It's me, Kurt. Are you up for a few chapters of Jane Eyre?" Kurt asks.

Miss Sylvester smiles warmly and turns her face toward Kurt's voice. "I'd love it, if you have the time."

Kurt pulls the visitor chair closer to the bed and begins where they left off last time. He doesn't notice when Miss Sylvester drifts off to sleep.

**8:24 p. M.**

_Kurt is standing on a street called Center Street in a small town. Everything is in black and white, like an old movie. Nearby, a couple strolls arm and arm, window-shopping. Kurt follows them. The store windows are filled with simplicity. Saws and hammers. Yarn and material. Baking sheets and metal tins. Dry goods._

_The couple stops at the corner, and Kurt can see the young woman has been crying. The young man is wearing a military uniform._

_He pulls the young woman gently around the corner of the building, and they kiss passionately. He touches her breast and says something, and she shakes her head, no. He tries again, and she moves his hand away. He pulls back._

"_Please, Jean. Let me make love to you before I go."_

_The young woman, Jean, begins to say no. Then she turns, and looks at Kurt with complete regret in her eyes. "Not even in my dream?" she says._

_Jean waits for Kurt to respond._

_Kurt looks at the young man. He is frozen, momentarily, gazing adoringly at Jean. Jean pleads with her eyes locked on Kurt. "Help me, Kurt."_

_Kurt, startled, shrugs and nods, and Jean smiles through her tears. She turns back to the young man, touches his face, his lips, and nods. They walk through the alley, away from Kurt. Kurt takes a step to follow them, but he doesn't want to see any more of this dream, it's too intimate._

He grips the chair in Miss Sylvester's room with all his might, concentrates, and pulls himself back into the nursing home.

Its 8:43 P. M. Kurt shakes his head to clear it. Surprised. Slowly, a grin spreads across his face. He did it! H e pulled himself out of the dream. And he's not getting sucked back into it. Kurt chuckles quietly to himself.

Miss Sylvester sleeps peacefully, a smile on her thin, tired lips. It must be nice for poor old Miss Sylvester to have a good dream.

Kurt leaves the book on the table and exits the room quietly. He turns off the light and closes the door, giving Miss Sylvester some intimate time alone with her soldier.

Before he dies.

And she never has the chance again.

**September 9, 2010, 12:45 P. M.**

* * *

"Why didn't you tell me the new guy was Blaine Anderson?" Rachel demands.

Kurt looks up from his book. He sits in the library at their usual table. "Because I'm an asshole?" He smiles sweetly.

Rachel tries to hold back a laugh. "Yes, you are. I see you're driving him to school."

"Only when he misses the bus," Kurt says lightly.

Rachel gives her a sly smile. "Yeah, well. Anyways, I made yearbook staff, so I'll be gone a lot during Study Hall, okay? I gotta go there now for the first meeting."

Kurt waves, distracted by the play he's reading for English. "Have fun. Play nice." He slides down in his seat and plops his feet on the chair opposite his. He's reading Camelot in preparation for next month's senior English trip to Stratford, Canada.

Every now and then he peers over the bookshelves to see if anyone is looking sleepy nearby. He figures he can handle anything outside a twenty-foot radius, unless it's a nightmare, and then the distance jumps dramatically. Luckily, most school-day dreams tend to either be the falling dream, the naked presentation dream, or something sexual. He can usually get a handle on those without doing a full pass-out-on-the-floor reaction.

It's the paralyzing, shiver-and-shake nightmares that are killing him.

**12:55 P. M.**

The book disappears in front of him. Kurt sighs and sets it on the table. He lays his head in his arms and closes his eyes.

_He is floating. Not the falling dream again, he thinks. He is sick to death of the falling dream._

_The scene changes immediately. Now, Kurt is outside. It's dark. He's alone, behind a shed, but he can hear muffled voices. He's never been alone before, and he doesn't know how people can have dreams that they are not in. He is curious. He watches nervously, hoping this isn't somebody's nightmare about to explode through the wall of the shed, or from the bushes._

_From around the corner comes a hulking, monstrous figure, outlined by the moonlight. It thrashes its arms through the bushes and lifts its hands to the sky, letting out a horrible yell. Kurt feels his fingers going numb. He tries to get out. But he can't._

_The figures long fingers glint in the moonlight._

_Kurt leans back against the barn. He is shaking._

_The grotesque figure sharpens his knife-fingers on each other. The sound is deafening._

_Kurt, against the barn, squeaks._

_The figure wheels around. He sees Kurt._

_Approaches him._

_He has seen this character before._

_Right before he and Ethel ended up in a ditch._

_Kurt stands up, tries to run. But his legs won't move._

_The figures face is furious, but he has stopped sharpening his knives. He's five feet away, and Kurt closes his eyes. Nothing can hurt me, he tries to tell herself._

_When he opens her eyes, it is daylight. He is still behind the barn. And the horrid, menacing figure has turned into a normal, human young man._

_It's Blaine Anderson._

_A second Kurt steps out from Kurt's body and walks to Blaine, unafraid._

_Kurt stays back, against the barn._

_Blaine touches the second Kurt's face._

_He leans in._

_He kisses him._

_Kurt kisses him back._

_He steps out of the embrace and looks at the Kurt against the barn wall. Tears fall down his cheeks._

"_Help me." he says._

**1:35 P. M.**

The bell rings. Kurt feels the fog lifting, but he cannot move. Not yet. He needs a minute.

**1:36 P. M.**

Make that two minutes.

**1:37 P. M.**

When he feels the hand on his shoulder, he jumps.

A mile, a foot, an inch, he doesn't know.

He looks up.

"Ready?" he says. "Didn't know if you heard the bell."

He stares at him.

"You okay, Hummel?"

He nods and grabs his books. "Yeah." His voice is not completely back yet. He clears his throat. "Yes," he says firmly. "Are you? You have a dent in your cheek." He smiles shakily.

"Fell asleep on my book."

"I figured."

"You too, huh?"

"I, uh, must've been really tired, I guess."

"You look freaked. Did you have a bad dream or something?"

Kurt looks at Blaine as they walk through the crowded hall to government class. He slips his hand onto the small of his back so they stay together as they talk. It sends goosebumps down throughout his body.

"Not exactly," he says slowly. His eyes narrow. "Did you?" The words come out of his mouth like gunshots.

He turns sharply into the doorway as the bell rings and he sees the look on his face. He stops in his tracks. His eyes narrow as they search his face. He can see his eyes are puzzled. His face flushes slightly, but Kurt's not sure why.

The teacher comes in and shoos them to their seats.

Kurt looks over his shoulder, two rows back and toward the middle of the room.

Blaine is still staring at Kurt, looking incredibly puzzled. He shakes his head just slightly.

Kurt looks at the chalkboard. Not seeing it. Just wondering. Wondering what the hell is wrong with himself. And what is wrong with him, that he has dreams like that. Does he know? Did he see him in that one?

And then it dawns on Kurt, that Blaine Anderson just may be gay. And that makes him smile.

**2:03 P. M.**

A wad of paper lands on Kurt's desk. He jumps and slowly looks over to Blaine. He is slumped in his seat, doodling on his notebook, looking a little too innocent.

Kurt opens the paper.

Smooth's it out.

_Yeah, maybe. -B_

That's what it says.

**September 29, 2010 2:55 P. M.**

* * *

Leaning against the hood of Kurt's car is the lanky, longhaired figure of Blaine Anderson. The one who dreams about monsters, and kissing him all in the same dream. His hair is wet.

"Hey," Kurt says lightly. His hair is wet too.

"Why are you avoiding me?"

Kurt sighs. "Am I?" He knows it sounds fake.

He doesn't answer.

He gets in the car.

Starts the engine. Pulls out of the parking space.

Blaine stands there, looking. Arms folded across his chest. His lips are concerned.

He leans over and rolls down the window. "Get in. You've missed the bus by now."

His expression doesn't change.

He doesn't move.

Kurt hesitates, one more minute.

He turns and starts walking toward home.

Kurt watches him, sighs exasperatedly, and guns it. His tires squeal around the corner. Idiot.

**October 10, 2010, 4:57 A. M.**

* * *

On a thin piece of paper in the cave of his own dream, Kurt writes:

_I keep to myself._

_I have to._

_Because of what I know about you._

And then he crumples it up, lights a match, and turns it into ash. The charcoaled remains shrivel up and the wind takes them down the street, across the yards. To his house. He steps on them as he saunters to catch the bus. The ash is softer than the crisp Halloween leaves that gather and huddle around the corners of his front step. Under the weight of his footstep, the ash disintegrates. The wind swallows it. Gone.

**7:15 A. M.**

Kurt wakes up, running late for school. He blinks.

He has never had a dream before, not that he can remember.

He only has everyone else's.

At least he can sleep during his.

He gives his wavy brown hair a lesson with a wet comb, brushes his teeth at top speed, shoves two dollars in the front pocket of his jeans, and grabs his backpack, searching wildly for his keys. They are on the kitchen table. He grabs them, saying good-bye to his night gowned mother, who stands at the sink eating a Pop-Tart and looking aimlessly out the window.

"I'm late," Kurt says.

His mother doesn't respond.

Kurt lets the door slam, but not angrily. Hurriedly. He climbs into the Nova and zooms to Lima High School. He's ten long strides from his English classroom when the bell rings, just like half the class. Sliding into his desk, the back seat in the row nearest the door, he mouses unnoticed through the class, except for a sleepy grin from Rachel.

"Kurt, can I talk to you for a minute?" The teacher asks him. Kurt gets up and walks over to the desk.

"Yes?" he asks her.

"Some of the boys have expressed that they are uncomfortable being in the same room as you because you are gay."

"That's an understatement." He says clearly, waiting for her to finish her train of thought.

"Do you mind if you roomed with the girls?" she asks.

"Not at all, I rather be in a room full of girls than a bunch of homophobic Neanderthals." He replies. The teacher nods and dismisses him.

Kurt stealthily finishes his math assignment as the teacher drones about the upcoming weekend senior trip to Stratford.

Blaine's back is to him. He has an urge to touch his hair. If he could reach him, he might. But then he shakes his head at himself. He is very confused over his feelings about Blaine. It's more bizarre than flattering to know he dreams about him. Especially when he does it after being that horrid monster-man. Kurt may even admit to being a little afraid of him.

And now he knows where he lives.

Just two blocks from here.

In a tiny house on Waverly Road.

"Your room assignments," Mrs. Purcell drones, waving fluorescent yellow papers like sun rays above her head before tossing handfuls at the first person in each row. "No changes allowed, so don't even try."

Kurt looks up as titters and groans fill the room. The boy in front of him doesn't turn around to hand him the paper. He tosses it over his shoulder. It floats, hovers, and slides off the slick laminate desk before Kurt can grab it, whooshing and sticking under Blaine Anderson's shoe. He kicks it towards Kurt without acknowledgment. His hair swings lightly around his shoulders.

The list places Kurt in a room with three rich snobs from the ritzy Hill section of North Lima: Santana Lopez, who hates him, Santana's friend Brittany Pierce, who hates him by default, and the captain of the celibacy club, Quinn Fabray, who pretends Kurt doesn't exist. He sighs inwardly. He'll have to sleep on the bus on the way.

But he's curious to know if, after all these years, Santana still dreams about Rachel with ginormous boobs.

* * *

**So! I do so hoped you liked it! In case you don't know, Mr. Wyane is the leader of The Hipsters. Hmmm, so Santana and Brittany are in the same room, with Kurt. Things could not get any better! Brittana woot woot! Thank you.**

**So please leave me a wonderful little review by clicking that little button down below.**

**Don't feed the trolls,**

**LatinMagicWriter is on fire**


	5. Oh Canada

**Welcome to another installment of Wake. Your reviews are truly wonderful! We have some Klaine AND Brittana action for you tonight!**

**Disclaimer: I honestly do not own Glee or Wake.**

**Words: 7,335**

_**Previously on Wake:**_

* * *

"_**Kurt, can I talk to you for a minute?" The teacher asks him. Kurt gets up and walks over to the desk.**_

"_**Yes?" he asks her.**_

"_**Some of the boys have expressed that they are uncomfortable being in the same room as you because you are gay."**_

"_**That's an understatement." He says clearly, waiting for her to finish her train of thought.**_

"_**Do you mind if you roomed with the girls?" she asks.**_

"_**Not at all, I rather be in a room full of girls than a bunch of homophobic Neanderthals." He replies. The teacher nods and dismisses him.**_

_**Kurt stealthily finishes his math assignment as the teacher drones about the upcoming weekend senior trip to Stratford.**_

_**Blaine's back is to him. He has an urge to touch his hair. If he could reach him, he might. But then he shakes his head at himself. He is very confused over his feelings about Blaine. It's more bizarre than flattering to know he dreams about him. Especially when he does it after being that horrid monster-man. Kurt may even admit to being a little afraid of him.**_

_**And now he knows where he lives.**_

_**Just two blocks from her.**_

_**In a tiny house on Waverly Road.**_

"_**Your room assignments," Mrs. Purcell drones, waving fluorescent yellow papers like sun rays above her head before tossing handfuls at the first person in each row. "No changes allowed, so don't even try."**_

_**Kurt looks up as titters and groans fill the room. The boy in front of him doesn't turn around to hand her the paper. He tosses it over his shoulder. It floats, hovers, and slides off the slick laminate desk before Kurt can grab it, whooshing and sticking under Blaine Anderson's shoe. He kicks it towards Kurt without acknowledgment. His hair swings lightly around his shoulders.**_

_**The list places Kurt in a room with three rich snobs from the ritzy Hill section of North Lima: Santana Lopez, who hates her, Santana's friend Brittany Pierce, who hates her by default, and the captain of the celibacy club, Quinn Fabray, who pretends Kurt doesn't exist. He sighs inwardly. He'll have to sleep on the bus on the way.**_

_**But he's curious to know if, after all these years, Santana still dreams about Rachel with ginormous boobs.**_

* * *

**OH, CANADA**

**October 14, 2010, 3:30 A. M.**

* * *

Kurt meets Rachel under the black sky in Rachel's driveway. They offer little greeting besides sleepy grins, and Kurt climbs into the passenger seat of Rachel's Tracer. They drive in silent darkness to school. Kurt's just glad he does not have to drive at this hour.

They pass Blaine Anderson when they get close to school. He's walking. Rachel slows and stops, rolls down the window.

"Hey, Anderson." She calls out to the boy.

Blaine looks up at her from where he was looking at the beaten up sidewalk.

"Yeah, Berry?" He asks her, spying Kurt in the passenger side next to Rachel.

"You want a ride?" She asks him, giving him one of her famous smiles.

He waves her off, saying, "Nah, no thanks. I'm almost there anyways." he says. Up ahead, the Greyhound bus gleams under the schools parking lot lights.

Kurt looks at Blaine. He catches Kurt's eye briefly and looks down. Kurt feels like shit.

Blaine and Kurt's non-fight in the parking lot began a long series of non-fights. Not only do they not fight, they no longer speak.

However, Kurt sees him. And Kurt kisses him, in his library dreams.

He also sees him, a raging maniac. A scarred-faced lunatic with knifes for fingers, who repetitively stabs, slices, and beheads one middle-aged man, over and over and over again. He feels only slight relief that he doesn't kill anyone else.

Not yet, anyway.

Not him, so far.

And every time he dreams it, the bell rings before Kurt can figure out how to help him. Help him do what? Help him, how?

He has no idea. He has no power. Why do all these people ask him for help? He can't do it.

Just.

Cant.

Do it.

But he sure doesn't get much done in study hall these days.

**3:55 A. M.**

* * *

The over sleepers, latecomers, and don't-give-a-shitters have either arrived or been written off by the teacher chaperones. Rachel sits with Santana and Brittany, near the front.

Kurt sits in the last row on the right, next to the window. As far away from everyone as he can get. He stows his overnight bag in the compartment above his seat. He is glad to note that the restroom is at the front of the bus. He twists the overhead TV monitor so its blue glow does not blind him, and puts his seat back. It only goes a little way before it hits the back wall.

Before the bus is loaded, Kurt is dozing.

**4:35 A. M.**

* * *

_He is jarred awake by a splash of water in his face. He's in a lake, fully clothed. He shivers. A boy named Artie Abrams is yelling as he falls from the sky above Kurt, over and over and over, until he finally lands in the water. However, he cannot swim because Artie is in a wheel chair. He has been ever since they were seven. He witnessed the car crashing into his from the bus parking lot. He saw Artie being thrown from the car. Artie had nightmares for three years after the incident. Kurt knew everything from the dream. And he grew to take pity on the rich, crippled boy. His original wheelchair that he had to push was newly upgraded to the joystick operated one last year. Kurt feels his fingers growing numb, and he kicks out with his feet, trying to stop it, trying to get out._

And then it's done.

Kurt blinks, and sits up, startled. A shadowy face appears above the seat in front of him, it's Tina, Artie's friend. "You mind?" she says in a low voice. Kurt looks over the top of the seat and find Artie next to her, and Mike, Tina's boyfriend, on the seat across from them. Kurt must have kicked her which made Artie wake up.

"Sorry." Kurt whispers. His heart races. The drowning dreams are the worst. Well, almost.

He hears a whisper in his ear as he struggles to see clearly. "You okay, Hummel?" Blaine slips his arm around Kurt. He sounds worried. "You're shivering. Did you just have a seizure or something? Do you want me to stop the bus?"

Kurt looks at him. "Oh, hey." His voice is scratchy. "I didn't know you were there. Um.." He closes his eyes. Tries to think. Holds up a weak finger, letting him know he needs a moment. But he feels the next one coming already. He doesn't have much time. And he has to prepare Blaine. He doesn't have a choice.

"Blaine. Do not freak if- when- I do that again, okay? Do NOT stop the bus. Do NOT tell a teacher, oh God, no. No matter what." He grips the armrests and fights to keep his vision. "Can you trust me? Trust me and just let it happen?"

The pain of concentration is excruciating. He is cringing, holding his head. "Oh, fuckity-fuck fuck!" Kurt yells in a whisper. "This was a stupid, stupid idea for me to come on this trip. Please, Blaine. Help me. Don't let anyone gah! see me."

Blaine is gawking at Kurt. "Okay," he says. "Okay. Jesus."

But he is gone.

The dreams pelt him, from all directions, without ceasing. Kurt is on sensory overload. It's his own physical, mental, emotional, three-hour nightmare.

**7:48 A. M.**

* * *

Kurt opens his eyes. Someone is talking on a microphone.

When the fog fades and he can see again, finally, Blaine is staring at him. His eyes, his hair, are wild. His face is white. He is holding him around the shoulders.

Gripping him, is more like it.

He feels like crying, and he does, a little. He closes his eyes and doesn't move. Can't move. The tears leak out. Blaine wipes his cheeks gently with his thumb.

That makes him cry harder.

**8:15 A. M.**

* * *

The bus stops. They are parked in a McDonald's parking lot. Everyone files off the bus. Everyone except Kurt and Blaine.

"Go get some food." He urges in a tired whisper. His voice is still not back.

"No."

"Honestly. I'll be okay, now that everyone is gone."

"Kurt." Blaine says in a austere tone.

"Will you go and get me a breakfast sandwich then?" Kurt is still breathing hard. "I need to eat. Something. Anything. There's money in my right-hand coat pocket." The effort to move his arm seems too difficult.

Blaine looks at him. Blaine's eyes are weary. Bleary. He removes his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose, then rubs his eyes. He sighs deeply. "You sure you'll be okay? I'll be back in five minutes or less." He looks unwilling to leave Kurt.

He smiles a tired half smile. "I'll be fine. Please. I do not think I can stand up if I do not get something to eat soon. That was much, much worse than I expected."

Blaine hesitates, and then removes his arm from behind Kurt's shoulders. "I'll be back before you can say 'Harry Potter is the best wizard in the whole world' five times." He sprints off the bus. Kurt watches him out the window. He runs through the empty drive-through lane and taps on the microphone. Kurt smiles. _What a dork. A Harry Potter dork at that._

He returns with a bag full of breakfast sandwiches, several orders of hash browns, coffee, orange juice, milk, and a chocolate shake."I wasn't sure what you'd want." he says, running a hand through his hair.

Kurt struggles a little and sits up with the help of Blaine. Kurt pours the juice down his throat and swallows until it's gone. He does the same with the milk.

"Can you chug beer like that?" Blaine teases.

He smiles, grateful he is not asking questions about his strange behavior. "I've never tried it with beer."

"That's probably wise." Blaine says with a chuckle.

"Have you?" He takes a bite of a sandwich.

"I don't really drink." He says smoothly.

"Not even a little, here and there?" Kurt asks, a perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised.

"Nope." His face is straight.

He looks at him. "I thought you were a partier. Drugs?"

He hesitates for a split second. "Nada." He says.

"Wow. Well, you sure looked like hell for a couple years." Kurt says, then bites his tongue, he can't believe he just said that.

He is quiet. He smiles politely. "Thank you." He nods at Kurt's sandwich.

"Oh, sorry." Kurt says, grinning sheepishly, "Thank you, Blaine." Kurt says.

Blaine smiles, "Your welcome, Hummel."

Blaine stares at the seat in front of them while Kurt eats. Kurt hands him a sandwich and he takes it, unwraps it, and eats it slowly. They sit in silence.

Kurt belches loudly and quickly covers his mouth, his porcelain skin red.

Blaine looks at him and grins wide. "Jesus, Hummel. You should enter a contest." Kurt rolls his eyes in annoyance.

They share the chocolate shake.

**8:35 A. M.**

* * *

The other students board the bus in twos and threes. Some stand outside, sucking on cigarettes.

**8:41 A. M.**

* * *

The bus begins to move again.

"Now what?" asks Blaine. He has a look of concern around his eyes. He combs his hair with his fingers, and it feathers and falls again.

"If it happens again, don't worry." He shrugs helplessly." I don't know what to tell you. I promise I will explain this all when I can. Where are we, by the way?"

"We're getting close." He replies.

He rummages around in his pocket and produces a ten-dollar bill. "For breakfast." he says.

Blaine shakes his head and pushes it away. "Let me think of this as our first date, will you?"

He looks at him for a long moment. Feels his stomach flip. "Dapper, are we?" he says and he gives a small smile, "Thanks." Kurt says, and places the bill back into his pocket.

Blaine touches his cheek. "You look exhausted. Can you sleep?"

"Until somebody else does, I suppose."

His eyes turn weary again. "What does that mean, Kurt?" He puts his arm around his shoulders. Kurt rests his head against him and does not answer. In minutes, Kurt is sleeping gently. He takes Kurt's hand with his free hand and strings his fingers in his. Looks at Kurt's hands, and lays his cheek against his hair. After a while, he is asleep too.

**9:16 A. M.**

* * *

_Kurt is outside, in the dark. He looks behind him, and the he is there. He walks around the shed this time, to see him coming._

_Blaine looks normal, not a monster standing at the back door of a house, looking in. Then he slams the door and marches through the dry, yellow grass. The middle-aged man bursts out the door after him, yelling, standing on the step. He carries a rectangular can in one hand, a beer and a cigarette in the other. _

"_Faggot!" The man yells at Blaine, who stops in his tracks._

_Blaine turns to face him, his face enraged. The man charges, and Blaine stands there, frozen. Waiting for the man to approach him. Waiting for the blow._

_The man punches Blaine in the face and he goes down. He squirms on his back like a scared crab, trying to get away. The man points and squeezes the rectangular can, and liquid hits Blaine's shorts and shirt._

_Then._

_The man flicks his cigarette at Blaine._

_Blaine ignites like the Goblet of Fire._

_He flops around on the ground in flames._

_Screaming, like a poor, tortured baby lion._

_And then, Blaine transforms. He becomes the monster, and the fire is gone. His fingers grow knives and he looks scarily like Freddy Krueger. His body grows like the Incredible Hulk._

_Kurt watches all this from around the corner of the shed. He does not want to see it. No more of it. Feeling so sick, so horrible for witnessing it. He turns around abruptly._

_Standing behind him, watching her in horror, is Blaine._

_The second._

**9:43 A. M.**

* * *

Kurt waits an eternity for his sight to clear. For the feeling to come back. He sits up, frantic. He reaches for Blaine.

Blaine is leaning over, his head in his hands.

He is shaking.

He turns to Kurt, his face enraged.

His voice is raspy. "What the fuck is wrong with you!" he demands.

Kurt does not know what to say. He is speechless. He did not know how Blaine even did that.

Blaine silent anger shakes the seats.

**10:05 A. M.**

* * *

Blaine does not speak until they arrive in Stratford. And then all he says is a harsh, "good luck." He gets off the bus and heads for his hotel room that he shares with Wesley, David, and Finn.

Kurt watches him go.

He closes his eyes, then opens them again, and follows the cheerleaders in the other direction to their room.

Once inside, they do not acknowledge one another.

Kurt's quite good with that.

**2:00 P. M.**

* * *

The students meet in the lobby. Camelot starts in thirty minutes. Kurt boards the bus, exhausted, and sits in the back row again.

Blaine doesn't show up.

**2:33 P. M.**

* * *

The play begins. Kurt excuses himself from his orchestra seat and finds a spot in the near-empty balcony. He sleeps soundly up there for three hours, awaking in the closing scene. He slips back down to the orchestra seats and follows the others back to the bus.

**6:01 P. M.**

* * *

The bus stops at Pizza Hut. They have one hour to eat before going back to the evening play.

Kurt grabs a Personal Pan to go, eats it on the bus, and sleeps. Sleeps right through the play, in his backseat spot. Nobody seems to notice he did not get off the bus.

**11:33 P. M.**

* * *

The bus arrives, most kids exhausted, back at the hotel. Kurt falls into bed. He is numb, but not from anyone's dream. Not this time. He thinks about Blaine. Cries silently in his pillow in the dark room. The heat register hums loudly. Quinn, the president of the Celibacy Club, collapses on the covers next to him. They do not speak. They hover at the edges of their bed.

**October 15, 2010, 1:04 A. M. - 6:48 A. M.**

* * *

Kurt jumps from one dream to another.

_Brittany dreams of unicorns. Unicorns and a cat that is known to her and everyone as Lord Tubbington, whose eating fondue from a huge bowl. And wearing mittens on his feet. Brittany comes riding up to the cat on a unicorn in a pink saddle dressed in her cheerleading uniform._

"_Now Lord Tubbington, you know if you eat too much fondue, there won't be enough for two and you'll get a belly ache. Santana wants fondue too. That's why we call it Fondue For Two, you ask the questions while Santana and I eat the fondue. _

_The cat stares blankly at her, "I'm sorry, Princess Brittany." The cat responds. Why is Kurt not surprised, of course her cat would talk to her in her dream. _

"_Britt!" Comes the excited shout of Santana. She's wearing her cheerleading uniform._

"_San!" Comes Brittany's cheerful voice. Before she could get her unicorn to gallop towards her, a landslide begins, bringing both girls down. Kurt tries to pull out of the dream. He hates the falling dreams. _

He pulls out, glad to be out. He has a moment to breathe and ponder the relationship of Brittany and Santana.

Until the switch to Santana.

_Santana, no surprise, is having a sex dream. But what amazes him the most is that instead of Rachel as her partner as Kurt was expecting it to be, it's Brittany. They are lying on her bed, making out in their cheerleading skirts. He is able to pull out before more scissoring starts._

Kurt counts it as a major victory.

He hears Santana mumble something, "Britt." He hears her say.

"Hmm?" is the sleepy reply from the blonde girl.

"You want to go to the bathroom?" The Latina asks her.

"If you want sex Santana, what's wrong with this bed?" she asks her.

"Because, it will be weird with Prancy Smurf in the other bed. Gay or not, I am not having sex with you when he is in the same room. Last time I slept in the same room as him I got kicked in the boob." Kurt bit his lip to hold back his laughter.

"Okay." Brittany agrees, "I do so love your sweet lady kisses." She says. Kurt hears the creek of the bed springs as the weight of the two girls are removed and the close shutting of the bathroom door.

Then, Kurt is sucked into the dream of Quinn Fabray.

_Quinn dreams about Blaine Anderson._

_They are alone after a Celibacy Club meeting. _

"_So, Blaine, are you doing anything after this?" Quinn asks, coming up to Blaine and standing in front of him. _

"_Only you." Blaine says and he pushes her to the ground, their hips grinding together. _

_The dream changes and they are in the boys bathroom. Quinn is sitting on Blaine, both of them are naked, Blaine's jeans are in a pool at his ankles and Quinn's bra is discarded over the stall. _

_It changes again. Kurt feels like he's getting whiplash. He's trying desperately to pull out, but he can't. He hears a moan from the Quinn next to him. But he has already gone numb. **God damn it Hummel! Get out!**_** He commands himself. **_The dream changes again and they are in Quinn's room. _

With as much of his strength as he can possibly manage, he kicks out his legs, hard, hearing the thump of Quinn as she topples to the floor.

"What the fuck Hummel!" She shouts, glaring at him with her viper eyes. "What was that for."

"You were having a nightmare, your twitching was driving me crazy!" he says.

"Whatever." She glares, giving him a death glare before climbing back under the covers and falling asleep again.

By morning, Kurt hates Quinn with all his heart. And he has very dark circles under his eyes.

**8:08 A. M.**

* * *

Brittany, Santana, and Quinn head down to breakfast. The matinee is at 10:00.

"See you on the bus." Kurt says, even though he is starving. The other girls don't bother to answer. Kurt rolls his eyes.

He takes a shower, wraps a towel around his waist and another on his head, and falls back into the bed. He sets the alarm for noon. The bus will be back for the luggage, and the students who didn't elect to take in a third play, at 1 P. M.

**8:34 A. M.**

* * *

_Kurt dreams for the second time in his life. He dreams that he is alone, drowning in a dark lake, and Blaine is on the shore with a rope, but he won't throw it to him. He waves frantically to him, and Blaine cannot see him. Kurt slips under the water slowly. Under the water, he sees others like him. Babies, children, teens, adults. All of them floating just under the surface of the water, no one able to help._

_It's because they're all dead._

_Their eyes bulge._

He is screaming when the alarm goes off. His towel has fallen off his head, and his hair is a huge mess, he would have to comb it out again. He can't see beyond it.

There is an urgent knock on the door. Kurt gets up, straightens out his towel and goes to the door and opens it.

And it's Blaine.

He's holding a bag of food.

Looking mournful.

He pushes past Kurt into the room, closes the door and locks it, takes his hand, and holds him. He is pleading. "I don't understand," he says."I just don't understand. Why did you do that to me?" He's broken.

And so is Kurt. "I can explain." Kurt says. And he buries his face in Blaine's shirt and cries. "Just get me home." He says.

They fall on the bed, and they just hold each other quietly.

That's all they do.

And then, it's time to go home.

**2:00 P. M.**

* * *

Kurt and Blaine are in the back seats again. Brittany and Santana sit in front of them. Across the aisle, Rachel sits with Finn. She's talking up a storm, being her usual talkative self.

In front of Rachel and Finn is Quinn, or at least her baggage. Quinn appears to be furiously ignoring Kurt. She tries to strike up a conversation with Blaine by sitting on the aisle floor, next to him. Blaine is cool and mildly disinterested.

This makes Quinn try harder.

Rachel and Finn turn sideways in their seats to chat. Blaine makes small talk and jokes, while Kurt looks out the window. Blaine slips his hand into Kurt's.

The other girls notice.

Rachel winks. Brittany's eyes glow as she slightly nudges Santana.

Quinn shifts in the aisle and leans against Blaine's leg, batting her eyelashes madly. Frighteningly.

At the front of the bus, kids are roaming around and laughing, singing, chattering. Awake and buzzing. Kurt slips into a grateful coma, his head propped against the window.

**7:31 P. M.**

* * *

They are back at McKinley High School. Blaine shakes Kurt awake, gently. Kurt sits up, wondering where he is. Blaine grins at him. "You made it." he whispers. He gathers their bags and follows Kurt off the bus. He walks with him to Rachel's car.

"Come on, Blaine." Rachel says. "Let me give you a ride, at least. Unless you want Quinn to. Hey, here she comes now." Rachel titters, her eyes dancing.

Blaine's eyes grow wide, quickly looking behind him to see Quinn riding up to him in his car. He slips into the backseat of Rachel's car without a word. "Get me out of here. Fuckin' creepy cheerleaders."

Rachel laughs. She pulls out of the parking lot and eases onto the road ahead of the pack, and turns to Blaine. "So where do you live?"

"Waverly. Two blocks straight east of your house. But I'll walk from Kurt's, if you don't mind. Kurt has a superstition about my street."

"What the hell?" Rachel snorts.

Kurt laughs." Nothing! Shut up, Blaine."

Rachel pulls into her driveway. It's cool outside. Crisp. The harvest moon shines orange on Ethel's roof in the Hummel driveway. Rachel grabs her things and yawns. "I'm turning in. Catch you guys later." She clops to her front door and lets herself in, waving as she closes the screen door.

Kurt takes his bag and waves to Rachel. He looks at Blaine. It feels awkward, now that they are in Kurt's front yard. They walk to his door. "Can you come in for a bit?" Kurt asks, trying not to sound anxious.

"Sure," Blaine says, his voice relieved. "I, uh, figure we have some things to talk about. Are the 'rents home?"

"My mother's probably passed out in her bedroom. That's it, just me and her."

"Cool," he says, but he gives Kurt an understanding look.

They go inside. There is no sign of Kurt's mother, except for an empty fifth of vodka on the kitchen counter and a sink full of dishes. Kurt throws the bottle in the trash. "Sorry about the mess." he says in a low voice. Kurt is embarrassed. The house was spotless when he left it yesterday morning.

"Forget about it. We can clean it up later, if you want." Blaine says, shrugging.

Kurt waves his hand at the living room. "Well. This is it." He says.

"You sleep out here, huh?" He isn't teasing.

"No, I have a bedroom. Come." He shows him. It's sparse and neat.

"Nice," he says. Blaine glances at the bed, and then abruptly turns around and they walk back to the living room.

"Hungry?" Kurt asks him.

"My stomach's growling," he says.

"Let me see if we have anything." Kurt searches the kitchen cupboards and refrigerator and comes up empty-handed. "Good grief," he says finally. "I'm sorry." Kurt turns around. "We've got nothing."

Blaine has been watching him, Kurt realizes.

"Maybe we could get a pizza." He suggests.

"Sounds good."

"You want to go out?" Blaine asks him.

Kurt sighs and scratches his head. "Not really."

"Good. Let's order delivery."

Kurt finds the number for Pizza Hut and orders. "Thirty minutes." Kurt tells him.

Blaine tosses a twenty-dollar bill on the coffee table and sits down.

"Blaine." Kurt says, arms folded.

"Yes."

"What is that?" Kurt asks, pointing to the twenty dollars on the table with a nod of his head.

"It's twenty dollars, Hummel."

Kurt sighs. "Let's be truthful with each other here, mmmkay?"

"Of course. Our whole relationship is based on it. Right?" Blaine's smiling sardonically, and looks down.

Kurt cringes as the words hang ominously in the room. "Look, I'm sorry." he begins. "I have a lot of explaining to do. But I know you don't have any more money to spare than I do. So how about I pay for this?"

"No. Next question."

Kurt sits down next to him. Shakes his head. "Fine," he says, giving up. He draws his legs up under him and turns to face him.

"Okay," he continues. "How did you get in the dream twice?"

He looks away, and then back to Kurt.

"Well, let's just jump right into it, then." Blaine says,

"I guess."

"All right, uh, I guess the answer is, I have No. Fucking. Clue. Oh, and just let me know when it's my turn to ask a few questions. Because I'd like to know how the hell you. Got into. My dream. Hello."

Kurt blushes. "Some of your dreams are kind of great."

"Oh, really." Blaine leans forward and catches Kurt's chin. Catches him by surprise. He pulls Kurt towards him and traces his cheekbone with his thumb. And then, he puts his lips on his own.

Kurt falls into the kiss. He closes his eyes and slips his hand to the base of his neck. They explore the kiss for a moment, sweetly. Blaine digs his fingers into Kurt's hair and he pulls him closer. But, before it grows any stronger, Kurt pulls away. He feels like his limbs are rubber.

"Shit," Kurt sputters. "You, you.." He stutters.

Blaine smiles lazily, his lips still wet. "Yes?"

"I thought you were straight." Kurt says dumbly.

"Nah, I'm just about as gay as you are." He says.

"Well," Kurt says, his face even more red, "you kiss better than I imagined. Even in-" he trails off, not meaning to say that in the first place

Blaine blinks. "No," he says. "No, no, no. Don't even tell me you've been there."

Kurt bites his lip. "Well, maybe if you stopped sleeping during study hall, I wouldn't have a clue."

"Good God!" he says. "Is nothing sacred? Sheesh." He turns away, embarrassed. "Maybe you should start from the beginning."

Kurt sighs and leans back against the couch. It was like reliving the dreams. Again.

"The short version? I get sucked into people's dreams. I can't help it. I can't stop it. It's driving me crazy." Kurt says.

Blaine gives him a long look. "Okay, um, how exactly? That's just bizarre."

"I don't know."

"Is this a recent thing?" Blaine asks.

"No. The first one I remember, I was eight."

"So, in that dream, my dream, where I'm standing behind you, watching myself in." He holds his head. "Okay, so that's how you see the dreams, right? Like I saw mine. While I was dreaming it. Ughh." He rubs his temples.

"That was weird, huh," Kurt says softly. "I know this is all really weird. And I'm sorry."

There's a knock at the door. Kurt jumps up, relieved. He grabs the twenty and goes to answer it.

Kurt sets the pizza and a two-liter of Coke on the coffee table and goes into the kitchen for a beer, glasses, napkins, and paper plates. Kurt pours the Coke for Blaine and clips open the beer. He takes a sip as Blaine grabs some pizza.

"Now. Tell me what else you've seen in my dreams, before I get really paranoid." Blaine says.

"Okay," he says, suddenly feeling a bit shy. Kurt takes another sip and begins. We're behind that shed or barn of some sort. Is that your backyard?" Kurt asks.

Blaine nods his head still chewing on his pizza. He takes a quick sip of his Coke, "Yeah." He says.

"Up until yesterday, I've seen you as the monster-man-thing." Kurt cringes, not sure what to name it, "that monster in the house. The kitchen. With the chair. That one was purely coincidental I didn't even know it was you, dreaming it. Not until later. It was sort of a drive-by thing."

He closes his eyes, cringes, and sets his pizza down on the plate.

"That was you," he says slowly. "I knew I had seen your car before. I thought you were someone else." He pauses, lost in thought. "The yard, oh God your so-called superstition. Damn. So." He sits up, hands paused in midair, eyes closed. Thinking. Processing.

And then he turns and stares at Kurt. "You could have totally crashed."

"I didn't think anybody saw me."

"The headlights, your headlights. That's what woke me up. They were shining in my window. Jesus Christ, Kurt."

"Your bedroom window must have been open. Otherwise, it would not have happened. At least, I think so. I had no idea it was your house."

He sits back, shaking his head slightly as he puts the pieces together. "Okay," he says. "Get to the good part before I completely lose my appetite."

"Behind the shed. You walk up to me. Touch my face. Kiss me. I kiss you back."

He's silent.

"That's it," Kurt says, taking a long sip from his beer.

Blaine regards him carefully. "That's it?"

"Yes. I swear. I mean, it was a good kiss, though."

He nods, lost in thought. "Damn bell always rings then, doesn't it?"

Kurt smiles. "Yeah." He pauses, wondering if he should mention the part where Blaine asks him to help him, but Blaine's on to the next thing.

"So when I found you on the desk in the library a few weeks ago, and it took you a while to sit up, what was that? You weren't asleep, were you."

"No." Kurt responds.

"That was a bad one?"

"Yeah. Real bad."

Blaine puts his head in his hands and takes off his glasses. He rubs his eyes. "Jesus," he says. "I remember that one." He keeps his head down, and Kurt waits. "So that's why you said when I asked you if you had a bad dream," he murmurs.

"I wanted to know if you knew I was there, watching. Even when people talk to me in their dreams, no one seems to remember that part. No one ever mentions it, anyway."

"I don't recall ever seeing you there, or talking to you except when I'm actually dreaming about you," he muses. "Kurt," he says abruptly. "What if I don't want you to see it?"

Kurt grabs a slice of pizza. "I'm working hard, trying to bust my way out of them, the dreams. I do not want to be a voyeur, honestly, I can't help it. It is almost impossible. So far, anyway. However, I am making a little progress. Slowly, but surely." He pauses. "If you don't want me to see your dreams, I guess you shouldn't sleep in the same room as me."

Blaine looks up at him with a sly smile. "But I'm known for sleeping in school. It's my shtick."

"You can change your schedule. Or I can change mine. I'll do whatever you want." Kurt looks at the uneaten pizza and sets his plate down. He is miserable.

"Whatever I want," he says.

"Yes."

"I'm afraid you haven't been privy to that dream yet." Blaine says with a wink.

Kurt looks at him. Blaine is looking at him, and Kurt grows warm. "Maybe I'd rather experience that first hand." Kurt says lightly, grinning wide.

"Mmmm." He takes a sip of his soda. "But before this goes off track. What the hell is wrong with you?"

Kurt's silent. Not looking at him.

"And," he says, "Jesus. It just occurred to me why you freaked when I pretended I wasn't me. You must be a freaking mess, Hummel." He tugs Kurt's arm, and he falls back on the couch toward him. He kisses the top of his head. "I can't begin to tell you how bad I felt about that."

"It's cool," Kurt says.

"Sorry about the flagrant foul." Blaine adds.

"S'all right." Kurt replies as Blaine twirls a strand of his hair with his finger. "So, when do you sleep, like, normally?"

Kurt smiles ruefully." Normally, I sleep fine, if I'm alone in a room. When I was thirteen, I finally asked my mother if she would do me the favor of passing out in her bedroom rather than in here. There's something about a closed door that blocks it." He pauses.

"But what happens, exactly?" Blaine pesters.

Kurt closes his eyes. "My vision goes first. I can't see around me. I'm trapped. If it's a bad dream, a nightmare, I guess I start to shake and my fingers go numb first, then my feet, and the worse the nightmare is, the more paralyzed I become."

Blaine looks at him. "Kurt." he says softly.

"Yes."

He strokes Kurt's hair. "I thought you were dying. You shake, you spasm, your eyes roll back in your head. I was ready to steal the nearest cell phone, stick a wallet in your mouth, and call 911."

Kurt is silent for a long time. "It's not as bad as it looks." He says.

"You're lying."

Kurt looks at him. "Yes," he says. "I suppose I am."

"Who else knows? Your mother?"

Kurt looks at his plate of uneaten pizza. Shakes his head. "Nobody. Not even her."

"You haven't been to a doctor about it or anything?"

"No. Not really. Not for help."

He throws his hands in the air. "Why?" His voice is incredulous. And then, suddenly, he knows why. "Sorry." he says.

Kurt doesn't answer. He's thinking. Thinking hard.

"You know, nobody's ever gone there with me, like you did." His voice is soft, musing. Kurt gives him a sidelong glance. "I don't understand that part. How did you get there too?"

"I don't know. All of a sudden it was like I had two different angles to watch from: one of them as an observer, the other as a participant. Like virtual reality picture-in-picture or something."

"And don't even tell me you'd believe a word of this if you hadn't come through it with me."

He nods soberly. "You're right, Hummel."

Its 10:21 P. M. when Blaine says good night at the door. He leans against the frame, and Kurt kisses him lightly on the lips.

Blaine hops off the step and starts walking home, but turns back in the driveway. "Hey, can I see you tomorrow night? Sometime around nine or ten?"

Kurt nods, smiling. "I'll be here. Just let yourself in. Rachel always does too. It's cool."

Blaine nods and heads in the direction towards home. Kurt closes the door and slides down it. He is grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

* * *

**That's a wrap! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! Don't forget to go vote on my poll if you want Rachel and Jesse or Rachel and Finn as a pairing. **

**We also have two illustrations that I made to go with this chapter! Just take out the spaces and place a . in the (dot) section.**

**Blaine ordering at McDonalds: http:/ buddygirl1004(dot)deviantart(dot)com /#/ d4xslmg**

**and**

**Their first Kliss: http:/ buddygirl1004(dot)deviantart(dot)com /#/ d4xuywl**

**I do so hope you enjoyed it! Please review and tell me what you think of this chapter by clicking the little blue button at the bottom of the page.**

**Don't feed the Nargles,**

**LatinMagicWriter is on fire**


	6. Truth or Dare

******TRUTH OR DARE**

**Welcome to another installment of Wake. I know I've been away for a while. Life's been hectic. I'm sure you all know, AP testing was this week and I have a Human Geography test tomorrow, then it's the weekend and I get to sleep in. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or Wake. Maybe if I save up the money I earn for babysitting maybe one day I can buy the rights to Glee. A girl always needs a dream.**

**Words: 11,117**

**_Previously on Wake_  
**

_Kurt is silent for a long time. "It's not as bad as it looks." He says._

_"You're lying."_

_Kurt looks at him. "Yes," he says. "I suppose I am."_

_"Who else knows? Your mother?"_

_Kurt looks at his plate of uneaten pizza. Shakes his head. "Nobody. Not even her."_

_"You haven't been to a doctor about it or anything?"_

_"No. Not really. Not for help."_

_He throws his hands in the air. "Why?" His voice is incredulous. And then, suddenly, he knows why. "Sorry." he says._

_Kurt doesn't answer. He's thinking. Thinking hard._

_"You know, nobody's ever gone there with me, like you did." His voice is soft, musing. Kurt gives him a sidelong glance. "I don't understand that part. How did you get there too?"_

_"I don't know. All of a sudden it was like I had two different angles to watch from: one of them as an observer, the other as a participant. Like virtual reality picture-in-picture or something."_

_ "And don't even tell me you'd believe a word of this if you hadn't come through it with me."_

_He nods soberly. "You're right, Hummel."_

_Its 10:21 p. M. When Blaine says good night at the door. He leans against the frame, and Kurt kisses him lightly on the lips._

_Blaine hops off the step and starts walking home, but turns back in the driveway. "Hey, can I see you tomorrow night? Sometime around nine or ten?"_

_Kurt nods, smiling. "I'll be here. Just let yourself in. Rachel always does too. It's cool."_

_Blaine nods and heads in the direction towards home. Kurt closes the door and slides down it. He grinning like the Cheshire Cat. _

**October 16, 2010, 9:30 P. M.**

It's Sunday. The house is clean. Kurt had the day off. He ran out for groceries in the morning, vacuumed, dusted, washed, polished, shined, and steam-cleaned.

Now, Kurt is asleep on the couch.

Blaine doesn't come.

Or call.

**11:47 P. M.**

Kurt is angry at Blaine.

He can't believe he fell for him.

And that makes him mad.

He gets up from his spot on the couch and goes into his room and falls asleep.

**October 17, 2010 7:35 A. M.**

Kurt grabs his backpack and heads out the door. He's pissed. And hurt. He thinks he knows why Blaine didn't show up.

On Ethel's windshield is a note, under the wiper. It's wet with dew.

_I'm sorry_, it says.

Blaine.

_Yeah, well. Not as sorry as I am_, he thinks.

He passes him on the way to school.

He looks up.

And eats his dust.

Blaine's late for school.

Kurt doesn't speak to him.

**11:19 P. M.**

He's sitting on Kurt's front step.

Kurt is pulling up to the house after work.

He gets out of the car, crunches over the gravel, and stands in front of him.

"Yes?" he says, his voice laced with annoyance.

"I'm sorry," Blaine starts out, holding out his hands in front of him in surrender.

Kurt stands there, tapping his foot. Searching for words. He blurts them out as they come to him. "So, you got freaked out. I'm a lunatic. An X File. I figured it would happen."

"No." he stands up.

"It's cool. No, really." He runs up the steps, past him, and fiddles for his key in the dark. "Now you know why I didn't want to tell anybody." The keys rattle in his fingers, and he cusses under his breath. "Least of all, you."

He drops the keys. "Goddamnit," he sniffs, picks them up again, and finds the right one.

"And if you tell anybody," his voice pitches higher as he gets the door open, "you'll learn a new definition of flagrant foul! You big fucking jerk!"

He slams the door.

**11:22 P. M.**

The phone rings.

"Asshole." he mutters. He picks it up.

"Will you let me explain?"

"No." He hangs up.

Waits.

Pours a glass of milk.

Drinks it.

Cusses.

Turns out the kitchen light, and goes to bed.

He is cursed for life. He will never have a boyfriend. Much less get married. Hell, he'll never be able to sleep with anybody.

He's a freak.

It's not fair.

Sobs shake the bed.

**October 18, 2010, 7:39 A. M.**

Kurt calls the school, pretending to be his mother, being grateful for his high voice. "He won't be at school today. He has the flu."

He calls the nursing home. "I'm sick," he sniffles. "I can't come in tonight."

Everyone is sorry. The secretary. The nursing home director. "Feel better soon, sweetie," the director says.

But Kurt knows there is no better. This is it. This is his life.

He falls back in bed.

**12:10 P. M.**

Kurt drags his ass out of bed and, sitting on his bedroom floor, does the homework he didn't do the previous night.

He can't stand getting behind in school.

He works ahead, even.

His mother shuffles around the house, oblivious to Kurt's presence. The sleaze-bitch. _It's her fault for giving birth to me_, he thinks.

He'd blame his father, too, if he knew who he was. Briefly, he thinks of his mother's kaleidoscope dream. Wonders if the hippie Jesus is his father. Wonders what happened that made his mother give up on absolutely everything. He'll probably never know.

Maybe it's better this way.

**2:55 P. M.**

The phone rings. Kurt's mother answers it.

"He's at school," she slurs.

Kurt didn't know his mother ever answered the phone.

**4:10 P. M.**

Kurt sits wrapped in a blanket on the couch, a roll of toilet paper next to him, watching Wheel of Fortune. Rachel lets herself in.

"Hey, bitch," she says cheerfully. "You missed a good one today. You sick?"

"Hey. Yeah." Kurt blows his nose loudly in some toilet paper to prove it.

"You look like hell," Rachel says. "Your nose is all red."

"Thank you for the compliment." Kurt says sarcastically.

Rachel sits on the couch next to Kurt.

"Funny, Blaine looks like hell too," she says lightly. "You sure you don't have something you want to tell me?" She eyes him with a strange look and a raised eyebrow.

"Pretty sure, yeah."

Rachel pouts. Then she ruffles through her backpack and pulls out a folded piece of paper. She tosses it on the coffee table. "This is from him. You don't have AIDS or something, do you?"

Kurt looks at Rachel. "Ha-ha."

"Well, jeez. Whatever it is, it's got to be a big deal to keep you home from school. You haven't missed a day since eighth grade. And, sorry to say, you might look like shit, but I don't think you're sick."

"Think what you want," Kurt says dully. "I think you have to have sex in order to get AIDS, last I heard."

"Aha, so it's a sex thing!" Rachel shouts triumphantly.

"Go home, Rachel." Kurt says, shooting her his famous bitch face.

Rachel grins. "You know where to find me. For sex tips and advice just holler out the window."

Kurt holds back an urge to strangle her. "Good-bye," he says pointedly.

"Okay, okay. I can take a hint." She heads to the door and turns back to Kurt, a curious expression on her face.

"This, by chance, doesn't have anything to do with Blaine messing with drugs this weekend, does it?" She blinks rapidly, grinning.

"What?"

"He's sort of a dealer, I guess or, you know. One of those guys who works as a go-between. Whatever they're called. So Quinn danced with him at a party Sunday night. She was really high, though. I heard he got busted. Is that true?"

Kurt's stomach twists and shreds.

He's going to be sick.

"No," Kurt says slowly, "it doesn't have anything to do with that." Tears well up in the corners of his eyes and he presses them back with his fingers.

Rachel's face falls. "Oh, shit, Kurt. You didn't know."

Kurt shakes his head numbly.

He doesn't notice when Rachel leaves.

**October 19, 2010, 2:45 A. M.**

Kurt lies awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. Arguing with himself. He knows he shouldn't do it. But he has nothing to lose.

Feeling like a total creep, he gets dressed and slips out of the house. Runs softly through the yards, avoiding the houses with dogs.

Sneaks up to Blaine's house and sits outside his bedroom window, in the bushes. He leans up against the house and waits. The bricks snag his sweatshirt. It's chilly. He puts his mittens on.

His butt falls asleep.

And his legs.

He gets terribly bored.

**5:01 A. M.**

He slips away while it's still dark, feeling like a criminal.

A criminal who walks away with nothing.

**7:36 A. M.**

He gathers his schoolbooks from the coffee table. The note is still there, where Rachel left it. He hesitates, and then opens it.

_We really need to talk, Kurt. Please. I'm begging you. -Blaine._

That's all it says.

**7:55 A. M.**

Kurt waits for the bell and slips into school. He gets to English class just before Mrs. Purcell closes the door. "Feeling better, I presume, Mr. Hummel," she intones.

Kurt presumes it's a rhetorical question and ignores her.

He can feel Blaine's eyes on him.

He won't look at him.

It's torture, is what it is.

Every damn class, of every damn day.

Torture.

**12:45 P. M.**

Blaine gives up.

Kurt dreads Study Hall. But Blaine gives up. He sits in the opposite corner of the library, removes his glasses, and rests his head on his arms.

He notes with satisfaction that he does, indeed, look like shit. Just as Rachel said.

Rachel plops in the chair next to him.

If Blaine dreams, Kurt doesn't pick it up. Instead, he lays his head on his arms and tries to take in a nap. But he's sucked into yet another falling dream. This time, it's his own.

_And then he's pulled awake and Rachel is there. Or, rather, Kurt is with Rachel. And Jesse._

_Kurt watches with curiosity._

_Rachel looks like shes enjoying it._

_A lot._

_Four times._

_Once was enough for Kurt._

_And he really doesn't think Jesses dick could possibly be that large. He could have never fit behind the wheel of ol Ethel with that thing._

_Now Kurt knows what else he's missing. He grunts when Rachel nudges his arm._

Gets up.

Two more classes.

Kurt is weary. And he has to work a full shift tonight.

Apparently things get worse before they get better.

If they ever get better.

Kurt's doubtful.

**10:14 P. M.**

Miss Sylvester is in a coma.

Hospice is in her room all evening.

Kurt hovers anxiously.

Coach Sylvester arrives, having left her daughter over at Mr. and Mrs. Schuester's house.

Coach's fingers dig into Kurt's porcelain skin as they sit on chairs next to Miss Sylvester. Everyone knows that Kurt is a close friend to Miss Sylvester. So they leave him with Coach.

And then Miss Sylvester dies. Right there in front of Kurt and Coach.

Kurt cries. Coach cries. Kurt has never seen her cry before. Kurt's not exactly sure why he's never cried over a residents death before. There was just something special about this one.

But he's glad Miss Sylvester got to make love with that nice young soldier, even if it was just a black-and-white dream.

The head nurse sends Kurt home a little early. She says Kurt still looks a bit under the weather. Kurt is numb. And exhausted. He's been awake since 2 A. M.

He says good-bye to Miss Sylvester. Touches her cold, gnarled hand and gives it a little squeeze.

He gives Coach Sylvester a hug goodbye and they walk to their cars together.

**10:31 P. M.**

Kurt drives home slowly, windows rolled down, hand ready on the parking brake. He takes Waverly. Past Blaine's house.

Nothing.

He falls into bed when he gets home.

There are no notes, no phone calls, no visits. Not that he was hoping for anything, of course. That bastard.

**October 22, 2010**

Kurt works the day shift. It's Saturday. He is assigned to the arts-and-crafts room. This makes him happy. Most of the residents at Lima Home don't sleep through the craft.

At his lunch break, the director is there, even though it's a weekend. She calls Kurt into her office and closes the door.

Kurt is worried. Has he done something wrong? Has someone caught him in a dream and thought he was slacking off? He sits down tentatively in the chair by the directors desk.

"Is everything okay?" he asks nervously.

The director smiles. She hands Kurt an envelope.

"This is for you." She says.

"What is it?" Kurt asks.

"I don't know. It's something from Miss Sylvester. We found it in her belongings after the coroner came. Open it."

Kurt's eyes grow wide. His fingers shake a little. He breaks open the seal and pulls out a folded piece of stationery. When he opens it, a small piece of paper flutters to the ground. He reads. The handwriting is barely legible. Crooked. Written with a blind hand.

_Dear Kurt, _

_Thank you for my dreams._

_From one catcher to another, _

_Jean Sylvester_

_P. S. You have more power than you think._

Kurt's heart stutters. He draws in a breath. No, he thinks. Impossible.

The director picks up the small rectangle of paper from the floor and hands it to Kurt. It's a check.

It says, _for college_, in the memo line.

It's five thousand dollars.

Kurt looks up at the director, whose face is beaming so hard, it looks like it's about to crack. He looks down at the check, and then again at the letter.

The director stands and gives Kurt's shoulder a squeeze. "Good job, honey," she sniffles. "I'm so glad for you."

**3:33 P. M.**

There is a phone call for Kurt.

He hurries to the front desk. What a strange day.

It's his mother.

"_There's this hippie on the porch, says he ain't leaving until he talks to you. You coming home soon? He wants to know, and I'm going to bed."_

Kurt sighs. He writes his schedule down every week on the calendar. But he is amused. Maybe because he got a check from Miss Sylvester. Maybe because his mother calls Blaine a hippie.

"I'll be home a little after five, Ma."

"Do I need to worry about this character on the porch, or can I go to bed?"

"You can go to bed. He's, ah, not a rapist. That I know of, anyway." They hang up.

**5:21 P. M.**

Blaine is not on the porch.

Kurt goes inside. There's a note on the counter, underneath a dirty glass, in his mother's scrawl.

_Hippie said he couldn't stay. Be back tomorrow._

_Love, _

_Mom._

It said, Love, Mom.

That was the most notable thing about it.

Kurt rips the note into shreds and throws it in the overflowing garbage can.

He changes his clothes, pops a TV dinner in the oven, and pulls out his college applications.

Five thousand. Just a drop in the bucket, he knows. But it's something.

Just like Miss Sylvester's note.

That was really something.

Kurt can't wrap his mind around that one yet.

He looks over everything in his piles of papers. It all looks foreign to him. Financial aid forms, scholarship applications, writing a request essay? Jeez. He needs to get moving on this.

He has to really think now. What would he do if he didn't get into NYADA? Their Glee Club had been cut his Freshmen year. He tried the football team as a kicker, but that didn't go to well because of his sexuality. He joined the Cheerios only because Coach asked him too. But those all lasted for a second and half.

But science, math, maybe research. Maybe dream research.

Or not.

He really wants to forget that part of his shitty, shitty life.

He calls Rachel. "What are you doing?"

"Sitting home. Alone. You?"

"I'm wondering if there's a party somewhere at one of your rich friends' houses."

Rachel is silent for a moment. "Why?" Her voice is suspicious.

"I don't know," Kurt lies. "I'm bored. Can't I get in with you? As your date or something?"

"Kurt."

"What."

"You don't want to go there."

"What? I'm just bored. I've never been to one of those organized Hill parties. You know, where the parents are gone and leave all the booze and shit for the kids to drink."

Rachel is quiet again. "You're looking for him, aren't you. I'm coming over." She hangs up.

Rachel arrives ten minutes later with her sleeping bag. "Can I stay over?" she asks sweetly. "We haven't had a sleepover in forever."

Kurt looks at her skeptically. "What's going on?" He asks. "Just tell me."

Rachel throws her stuff on the couch. "You got munchies? I haven't eaten." She sniffs the air and opens the oven. "Eww. Can't we cook something real?"

"Fine," sighs Kurt. He rummages around in the kitchen. The refrigerator is surprisingly full today. "Fajitas okay?"

"Perfect," says Rachel gleefully. She mixes two vodka tonics, adds a splash of orange juice, and hands one to Kurt.

"Would you stop that, please?"

"Stop what?"

"That whole syrupy sweet-talk thing. It's really grating on me."

Rachel blinks. "I don't know what you're talking about. Anyway, give me some friggin' veggies to chop."

They work up a meal, making guacamole from scratch and everything. Kurt takes the TV dinner, wraps it in tinfoil, and puts it in the refrigerator. His mother will probably eat it. Cold. For breakfast or something.

By the time the fajitas are ready, Kurt is buzzing from his second drink and Rachel is doing shots from the bottle.

They move into the living room and flip on music videos.

"So, are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on, or not?" Kurt says.

Rachel sighs and gives him a sorrowful look. "Oh, Kurt. Are you still thumping for Blaine or what?"

Kurt takes a swallow of his drink, and lies. "I-I'm getting over him. I'm not speaking to him."

"I saw him here, on your step this morning. Were you working?"

"Yeah. I guess he was here all day. Ma calls him the hippie." He laughs.

Rachel takes another shot. "Whooo!" She says when it goes down. "Sheesh. Um, yeah. Blaine. Well, he's at Santana's tonight. With Quinn," she adds.

"Well, duh, he wouldn't be with Santana." Kurt says, trying not to think about Blaine and Quinn.

Rachel gives her a curious look. "Why not Santana?"

Kurt's feeling a bit reckless from the effects of the alcohol. "Rachel! Santana's a lesbian. Didn't you know?"

"What?"

"It's true!" Kurt said.

"How do you know?" Rachel asks.

"She and Brittany had sex in the bathroom while we were in Stratford. They're really loud." He says, still buzzing from his drink.

Rachel looks at him, confused.

Kurt sits, stone-faced.

And then Rachel bursts out laughing. "Holy shit, Kurtie. You got your funny back."

Kurt echoes Rachel's laugh. "Gotcha," he says shakily.

Rachel takes a tentative bite of her fajita. "Hey, it's good, kiddo."

Kurt rolls his eyes. Now Jesse has Rachel calling him that. "Anyway," prompts Kurt.

"Hunh?" Rachel asks with a mouthful of fajita.

"Blaine?"

"Ohhhh. Right. Well, since you dumped him, he's been going whole hog on the rich girls. I thought he was gay? Maybe he's bi, that usually happens when gay guys get to high or drunk. I know my dads both had days like that. And right now he's got Quinn wrapped around his little finger."

"Even though he supposedly got busted at her party?"

Rachel giggles. "Who do you think he's working with? Her father! They have a little arrangement. Quinn told me. How hilarious is that. Talk about a family business. And we're not talking just pot."

Kurt shovels food in his mouth.

Rachel continues. "Quinn told Santana she slept with him." She slaps her hand to her mouth. "Oh, my God. I did not just say that."

Kurt is numb. And strangely begging for more. He wants to hate him. "Naw, its cool," He says smoothly. "I'm so over that guy. He's a big fake. Right? He's gay and sleeping with women. He probably just thought he was gay and I was experiment. I really don't give a shit anymore." He eggs Rachel on.

"He IS a big fake," shrieks Rachel, nearly upsetting the vodka bottle. She fills Kurt's glass. "No wonder he has all those new clothes, and finally got a cell phone. Sheesh. He's making some bucks. I think its crack. But that's just a guess."

Kurt can't believe it.

"He said he doesn't drink. Doesn't do drugs." Kurt says, remembering their conversation.

He thought he couldn't stand Quinn Fabray.

"What a liar." Rachel says, taking another sip of her drink.

"All the dealers lie, I suppose," Kurt says.

Rachel nods, over-animated by the liquor. "They are pretty smooth. I just couldn't believe it when I found out what Blaine was doing. But I knew he was a pothead three years ago, back after he flunked into our grade. I guess it goes on from there."

"Was he really a pothead then?"

"I bought from him," Rachel whispers.

"You did?"

Rachel nods again. "A lot."

Kurt stands abruptly and takes the dishes to the sink. He begins washing them as the flurry of information sloshes around in her brain. _He had sex with Quinn?_ Kurt's whole body stings.

When Kurt comes back to the living room, Rachel's eyes are glazed. She stares at the TV.

Kurt sits next to her. "So if Blaine is hot for Quinn, why did he sit on my step all day, and why does he keep trying to talk to me?"

Rachel looks at Kurt. "Maybe he doesn't want to lose you as a future customer. Or a good lay. Face it, baby, you're looking hot these days. You have a bubble but. A very cute bubble but. Jesse doesn't have a bubble but. How do you get a bubble butt?"

Kurt feels his stomach churning.

He excuses herself to the bathroom.

When he returns, Rachel is lying on the couch, passed out.

Kurt turns off the TV. He cleans up the mess and gets a drink of water.

**October 23, 2010 1:34 A. M.**

He leaves Rachel on the couch, sprints through the yards to hide in the stand of trees near Blaine's house. There's a light on inside, so he waits. After a while, a car pulls into his driveway. It sits there for five minutes, maybe more. Finally, Blaine gets out and goes inside. When he sees all the lights go out, he deposits himself in the bushes under Blaine's window, stepping carefully around the crunchy leaves that insist on falling constantly the past few days.

Luck is on his side when he cracks the window open an inch. He hears him now, and Kurt's heart breaks as he sighs and rustles around in the dark. Kurt can hear his bed creak when he lies down, and he can hear him punch his pillow, getting settled for sleep.

Kurt wonders what he wears to bed. He is more than tempted to look.

But he will wait.

He must wait.

He waits.

**2:15 A. M.**

Blaine doesn't snore.

**3:04 A. M.**

Kurt, asleep in the bushes, is jolted awake. Painfully. His body is paralyzed almost immediately, and he is sucked into his mind. Into his fears. His dream.

It lasts two hours.

The same scenes, on an endless loop.

_The middle-aged man, spraying lighter fluid, and then flicking a cigarette at Blaine. The monster-man in the kitchen, flinging a knife-pointed chair, hitting the ceiling fan, decapitating the middle-aged man. And a new one. Quinn, the rich girl cheerleader, in handcuffs, hooked to a bed. Smiling._

_Kurt thinks she looks dreadful._

_Naked._

_As Blaine climbs in bed with her._

_And Kurt can't pull himself away._

_He feels himself become ill, but_ _he cannot move._

_He can't pound on the window to wake him._

_He's frozen. Paralyzed._

_And he thought school was torture._

_It's absolutely the worst dream he ever been stuck in. By far. He passes out. Unconscious. Drained. Right before the scene changes. And ends._

**6:31 A. M.**

He opens his eyes.

On his belly, facedown, in the stones and branches.

He can hardly move.

But he must.

The sun is coming up.

**7:11 A. M.**

Kurt limps home. He ignores the barking dogs.

**7:34 A. M.**

Kurt crawls in the door, closes it, and falls on the carpet next to Rachel, who is still lying on the couch. He sleeps.

**8:03 A. M.**

_Oh, God. Kurt's in the forest. Again, again, again. So tired._

_When they see the girl, bobbing in the water, Jesse appears next to Rachel._

_The grin._

_The struggling._

_The plea. "Help her."_

_And Kurt can't help her._

_He can never help her._

_Jesse reaches over the water, but he cannot help either. Jesse makes love to Rachel as she is crying for the girl, Beth._

_The girl is bloody,_ _lost, gone with the shark._

_As always._

_Kurt cries. For Beth, for Rachel. But mostly for himself. He feels like he's about a hundred years old._

**9:16 A. M.**

Rachel nudges Kurt.

"I gotta go," she says.

Kurt grunts. His body aches.

Rachel closes the door softly, and Kurt sleeps.

The carpet scratches his face.

**11:03 A. M.**

There is a soft knock, and a lets-himself-in noise of the door. Kurt thinks he's dreaming.

Blaine checks to make sure Kurt is alive, on the floor. Then he sits on the couch and waits.

Kurt's mother walks by.

And walks by again, the other way, carrying a tinfoil-covered tray and a glass bottle.

**12:20 P. M.**

Kurt rolls.

Groans.

Curls up in a ball on his side, clutching his belly.

"Oh, God," he moans, eyes closed. his head aches. His muscles scream every time he moves. He is weak and empty. Light-headed.

Exhausted.

And Blaine is there, picking him up. Taking him to his bed. Covering Kurt with blankets.

Blaine closes the door.

Sits on the floor, next to Kurt.

**12:54 P. M.**

Blaine goes to the kitchen. Makes Kurt a cold chicken sandwich. Pours milk. Pours orange juice. Puts it on a plate. Takes it to his room.

Waits.

**1:02 P. M.**

Until Blaine gets scared because Kurt's sleeping so much. And he wakes Kurt up.

Kurt groans and slowly sits up.

He drinks the juice and milk.

Eats the sandwich.

Doesn't look at Blaine.

Or speak to him.

**1:27 P. M.**

"Why do you keep coming here," He says dully. His voice is rough.

Blaine measures his words. "Because I care about you."

Kurt chuckles morosely. "Right."

He looks at her helplessly. "Kurt, I'm-"

He gives him a sharp look. "You're what? Dealing drugs? Fucking Quinn Fabray? Tell me something I don't know."

He puts his head in his hands and groans. "Don't believe everything you hear."

Kurt snorts. "You're denying it?"

"I am not fucking Quinn Fabray." He shudders. "Last time I checked I was gay and I don't fuck chicks."

"Oh, really. Only in your dreams, then." He turns to the wall.

He stares at the back of Kurt's head.

For a painful amount of time.

"You didn't," he finally says.

Kurt doesn't respond.

He stands up. "Jesus, Kurt." He spits the words.

Stands there, accusing.

"Maybe you should leave now," Kurt says.

He moves to the door, opens it, and turns back to look at her. "Dreams are not memories, Kurt. They're hopes and fears. Indications of other life stresses. I thought you of all people would know the difference." He walks out.

**November 21, 2010**

Kurt and Blaine don't speak.

Kurt goes about school and his job mechanically, feeling emptier than he's ever felt before in all his life. The one person who knows about the dreams, the one person he really started to care about, feels like his worst enemy. Kurt spends a lot of time thinking about being an old maid forever, like Miss Sylvester. Preparing himself for a very lonely life.

Working at the nursing home.

Commuting to college.

Living with his mother.

Forever.

At school, the number of sleeping students increases with the waning of daylight hours and the onset of colder weather.

As Thanksgiving approaches, in one especially rough study hall that follows too light a lunch, a science geek girl named Tina Cohen-Chang takes a rare nap.

_She's driving an out-of-control car with a rapist in the backseat for almost the entire class period. Fifteen minutes into it, Kurt is already fully paralyzed._

Luckily, Rachel is not there to notice when Kurt falls off his chair and shakes on the carpet, back in the corner of the library.

Luckily, Blaine notices.

He picks Kurt up, sets him back on the chair.

Rubs Kurt's fingers a bit until they move.

Pulls a king-size Milky Way bar from his backpack and sets it next to his hand before Blaine leaves for government class.

Distracts the teacher when he slips in late.

Doesn't look at him.

Kurt swallows his pride along with the candy bar. Writes something in his spiral notebook in a shaky hand. Rips the paper off the spiral.

Crumbles it into a ball.

Hits him in the back of the head with it.

He picks it up and opens it. Reads it.

Smiles, and puts it in his backpack.

On Ethel's windshield after school is a section of newspaper: the classifieds. Kurt looks around suspiciously, wondering if it's some sort of joke. Seeing no one, he pulls it out from under the wiper and gets in the car. He gives it a cursory glance, first one side, and then the other. And then he finds it. Highlighted in yellow.

**Having trouble sleeping? Nightmares? Sleep disorders?**

**Questions answered. Problems solved.**

It's a volunteer sleep study. Sponsored by the University of Ohio. For scientific research.

And it's free.

When he gets home, he calls immediately and signs up for Thanksgiving weekend, at the North Lima Sleep Clinic location near school.

**November 25, 2010**

It's the day after Thanksgiving. Kurt worked Thanksgiving Day and today, for double pay. He has tomorrow off, anticipating trouble at the sleep study tonight. Wondering if this is going to be a repeat of the bus ride to Stratford. Wondering if this is going to turn into another big mess.

**10:59 P. M.**

Kurt grabs an overnight bag from the backseat of his car and walks into the sleep clinic. He removes his coat and registers under a fake name at the desk, Richard Schwartz, combing two of his favorite Broadway actors names, Richard Blake and Chandra Lee Schwartz. Through the tinted glass window, He can see a row of beds with machines all around. There are people already in some of the beds.

_This is a very, very bad idea_, he thinks.

The door to the sleep room opens, and a woman in a white lab coat stands there, looking at a chart. Kurt stumbles. Puts his hands to his face. Grimaces. He reaches blindly for a chair before his body goes numb.

**11:01 P. M.**

_He is on a street in a busy city. It's raining. He stands under an awning, not sure who he's looking for. Not yet. He doesn't feel compelled to follow anyone passing by. Eventually, his stomach lurches. he sighs and rolls his eyes, and looks up._

_Here he comes, he thinks._

_Through the awning._

_It's Mr. Figgins, the principal of his high school._

**11:02 P. M.**

His vision defrosts. The lab-coated woman has moved into the room and is staring at him.

Kurt stares back, just to freak her out. Kurt looks around the room at the others who sit there, waiting for their names to be called. They all look at the floor as his gaze passes from one to the next. He knows what they're thinking. There's no way they want to be in that room with me, the freak.

Kurt sets his jaw.

He's tired of crying.

Refuses to make any further scenes.

When the feeling returns to his fingers and feet, he stands up, grabs his coat and overnight bag, and stumbles to the door.

His voice is hoarse when he turns to speak to the receptionist. "Sorry. I'm not doing this." He goes outside into the parking lot. The air is crisp, and he sucks it into her lungs.

The woman in the lab coat chases out the door after her. "Sir?"

Kurt keeps walking. Tosses his bag back into the car.

Over his shoulder, he yells, "I said, I'm not doing this."

Kurt climbs behind the wheel. Leaves the lab-coated woman standing there as he drives away. "There has to be another way, Ethel," he says. "You understand me, don't you sweetheart."

Ethel purrs mournfully.

**11:23 P. M.**

Kurt pulls into his driveway after the incident in the sleep study waiting room. Wonders if he should have given it a try. But there is no way on earth he wants to know what his principal, Mr. Figgins, dreams about.

Ew.

Ew, ew, ew.

This is not the right way to fix it, he decides. However, what is the right way? Because it's time.

Time to stop crying, time to get his act together and do something. Time to move beyond the pity party.

Before he loses his mind.

Because there's no way on earth he's going to make it through college unless he grows some serious balls and turns this train wreck around.

He goes into the house and digs through his papers on his bedside table. He finds it: Miss Sylvester's note. Reads it again.

_Dear Kurt, _

_Thank you for my dreams._

_From one catcher to another, _

_Jean Sylvester_

_P. S. You have more power than you think._

**11:36 P. M.**

What does it mean?

**11:39 P. M.**

He still doesn't know.

**11:58 P. M.**

Nope.

**November 26, 2010, 9:59 A. M.**

Kurt waits at the door of the public library. When it opens for business, he meanders through the nonfiction section. Self-help. Dreams.

He pulls all six books from the shelf, finds a back corner table, and reads.

When a group of sleepy-looking students comes in and sets up at a nearby table, he moves to a different section of the library.

He waits patiently for the computer in the corner to open up. Spends an hour there. He can't believe what he finds with Google's help.

Of course, there's no information on people like him. But it's a start.

**5:01 P. M.**

With four of the six books in tow, Kurt drives home. He is fascinated. He makes dinner with a book in his hand. He reads until midnight. And then he takes a deep breath and talks to himself as he gets ready for bed.

"I have a problem," he says quietly, trying not to feel like a dork. "I have a problem, and I need to solve it. I would like to have a dream about how to solve this problem."

He concentrates. Climbs into bed, closes his eyes, and continues in a calm voice. "I would like to dream about what I can do to block out other people's dreams. I want-" he falters. "I mean, I would like to help people, and I also would like to live a normal life. So their dreams don't fuck up my life forever."

Kurt breathes deeply. He stops speaking, and instead focuses his mind on his problem. Until he remembers. "And I would like to remember the dream when I wake up," he adds out loud.

Over and over, he repeats the words in his head.

He peeks at the clock quickly and chides himself for messing with the mojo.

**12:33 A. M.**

He focuses again. Breathes deeply. Lets the thoughts float around and meld together in his mind.

Slowly, he feels the thoughts filling the room. He breathes them in. They caress his skin. He lets his mind be free, allows his muscles to relax.

And he lets the sleep in.

Nothing happens at first.

Which is good, he discovers.

Lucidity comes late.

**2:45 A. M.**

Kurt finds himself in the middle of a dark lake. He treads water for what seems like hours. He grows weary. Panics. Sees Blaine on the shore with a rope. He waves frantically to him, but he doesn't see him. He can't hold on. The water fills his mouth and ears.

He submerges.

There are many people under the surface of the water: men, women, children, babies. He looks at them with panic, his lungs bursting. They stare at him, eyes bulging in death.

He looks around frantically. The pressure in his lungs is overpowering. Everything dims, and goes black. He feels his eyeballs bulging, and hears the haunting inner laughter of the floating bodies around him.

Kurt gasps and sits up. Its 3:10 A. M.

He breathes hard. Writes down the dream in a spiral notebook.

Tries not to feel bad that he failed. He expects this.

_It's not over,_ he tells himself, lying back down.

_Let me dream it again_, he thinks, calmly. _And this time, I won't drown. I will breathe underwater, because this is my dream and I can do what I want with it. I will swim like a fish. Because I know how to swim. And, and I have gills. Yes, that's it. I have gills._

He repeats this to himself as he lies down.

**3:47 A. M.**

He doesn't have gills.

He rolls over and groans, frustrated, into his pillow. Repeats the mantra.

**4:55 A. M.**

It begins again.

When Kurt slips under water, exhausted, his lungs burning, he looks around at the others who are floating under the surface.

He begins to panic.

The bulging eyes.

And then.

Miss Sylvester blinks at him from under the water. She smiles encouragingly. She is not one of the dead.

Floating next to Miss Sylvester is another Kurt, who nods and smiles. "It's your dream," he says.

The drowning Kurt looks from Miss Sylvester to Kurt. His vision dims.

He grows frantic.

"Concentrate," Kurt says. "Change it."

Drowning Kurt closes his eyes. Falls farther under the water. He kicks his feet as he loses consciousness, struggling to move, to get back above the water.

"Concentrate!" Kurt says again. "Do it!"

Gills pop from the drowning Kurt's neck.

He opens his eyes.

Breathes. Long, cleansing breaths, underwater. It tickles. He laughs in bubbles, incredulous.

He looks up, and Miss Sylvester and Kurt are smiling. Clapping, slow motion and soundless, in the water. They swim over to him.

The formerly drowning Kurt grins. "I did it," he says. Bubbles come out of his mouth, and the words appear individually above his head when each bubble pops, like a cartoon.

"You did it," Kurt says, nodding, his hair swishing like silk.

"Let's swim now," Miss Sylvester says. "Someone's waiting for you on the shore."

Kurt and Miss Sylvester swim partway with the formerly drowning Kurt, and then they stop and wave him on.

He nears the shore, and when he surfaces and can stand, the gills disappear. He walks out of the water, streaming wet in his pajamas boxer shorts and a T-shirt.

Blaine is there. He's wearing boxer shorts too. His muscles ripple in the sunlight. His body is tan. It glistens.

It looks like they are on a deserted, tropical island.

He doesn't move.

He doesn't have a rope anymore.

He's sitting in the sand.

He waits for him to do something, but he doesn't move.

_Remember, it's your dream_, he hears. It's his other Kurt speaking, the one who is aware that he is dreaming.

Kurt hesitates and approaches Blaine. "Hey, Blaine."

He looks up. "I care about you," he says. His eyes are golden, like the sun.

Kurt wants to believe him. And so he does.

"What about Quinn?" He asks.

"Dreams aren't memories," he says. "Please talk to me."

**6:29 A. M**.

Kurt smiles in his sleep. He watches over himself in the dream, and plunges back into it, taking it in different directions, starting over at various spots to make it fun, or sexy, or beautiful, or silly.

**November 27, 2010, 8:05 A. M.**

The alarm clock rings. Kurt keeps his eyes closed and reaches to turn it off. He lies in bed, going over the dream in detail, remembering it. Memorizing it.

When he has it solidly in his mind, he sits up and writes it in his journal.

He can't stop smiling.

It's a small step. But it gives Kurt hope.

He studies the books all day, until it's time for work.

**9:58 P. M.**

It's quiet at the nursing home. The residents are all tucked in their beds, doors closed. Kurt fills out charts at the front desk. He is alone.

The call panel is dark, until a white light flashes from the room Miss Sylvester once occupied. A new resident is there now. His name is Victor Schuester. He thinks it's the Spanish Teacher's, Will Schuester's, father. But he can't be sure.

Kurt sets down his pen and goes into the room to see what he needs.

But Mr. Schuester is asleep.

He's dreaming.

Kurt grabs hold of the wall as he goes blind.

**9:59 P. M.**

_They are in the basement of a house. It's lit moderately, and it's not very cold down there. Kurt sees gray leaves blowing and piling up outside the venting window. Everything is in black and white, he realizes after a moment._

_Mr. Schuester is perhaps twenty years younger. He stands at the bottom of the stairs with a young man, whom he calls William.__ The Spanish Teacher William. The one who watched Coach's daughter when Miss Sylvester died. _

_They are yelling._

_Hateful things._

_Mr. Schuester looks horrified, and William storms up the stairs and out of the house, slamming the door._

_The old man tries to follow, but he can only move in slow motion. He tries speaking, but no words come out. He is mired by the weight of his feet, sinking through the steps._

_He looks at Kurt, his face cracked and broken, lined with tears. And then he looks past Kurt._

_Kurt turns around._

_Miss Sylvester is standing behind her, watching. Waiting. For something. She smiles encouragingly at Mr. Schuester._

_His face is anguished._

_Fresh tears fall from his eyes._

_He is sinking into the steps, and now he can't move at all._

_Miss Sylvester stands patiently, watching him, compassionate. She closes her eyes, and her brow furrows. She holds deathly still._

"_Help me," he finally cries, as if its forced from his lungs._

_Miss Sylvester glides over to Mr. Schuester._

_Holds her hand out._

_Helps him out of the stairs, which magically repair themselves. But instead of guiding him up the stairs, she brings him back to the starting spot of the dream._

_Miss Sylvester glances at Kurt and nods, then turns back to the old man and tells him something that Kurt cannot hear._

_They stand there, Kurt looking on, for several moments. And then the dream begins again._

_Mr. Schuester and William are yelling._

_Hateful things._

_Mr. Schuester looks horrified, and William turns toward the stairs._

_Miss Sylvester says something to Mr. Schuester again. The scene pauses._

_Mr. Schuester reaches for Williams sleeve._

"_Don't go," he says. "Please. There's something I have to tell you."_

_William turns around slowly._

"_Son," the old man says. "You're right. I'm wrong. And I'm so sorry."_

_William's lip quivers._

_He opens his arms to his father._

_Mr. Schuester embraces the young man. "I love you," he says._

_Miss Sylvester whispers a third time to Mr. Schuester, and he nods and smiles. He puts his arm around his son, and they walk up the stairs together._

_Miss Sylvester smiles at Kurt and fades away. Kurt stands for a moment in the basement. He is surprised that he's not compelled to follow the old man. He looks around and sees bright green grass and petunias growing outside the venting window, and the basement walls have turned a soft yellow._

_Strange._

_Kurt closes his eyes and concentrates, and he pulls himself easily from the dream._

He's still standing. He blinks Mr. Schuester's dark room into view once again. Her fingers are barely tingling.

How bizarre.

But nice to see Miss Sylvester. That's for sure.

He turns to leave. Out of the corner of her eye, he notices his call button.

It's on the floor.

Out of reach of the bed.

Kurt hesitates, and then picks it up and connects it back to its clip on the wall. He turns the blinking light off.

He looks around the room quickly, hackles raised.

Closes the door behind him.

Shakes his head, mystified.

At the front desk is Carole Hudson, yeah, Finn Hudson's mom, the head nurse. "I finished your charts, hon," she says. "Where'd you disappear off to?"

Kurt points down the hall. "Mr. Schuester's light was flashing. He's all set now. I just turned it off." His voice is pure and smooth, and it catches him by surprise.

Carole gives Kurt a curious look. "His light wasn't flashing, Kurt." She goes to the light panel, picks it up, and jiggles it. "Hmm," she says. "Maybe it burned out."

"That's odd," Kurt says lightly.

He puts the charts away, grabs his coat, and punches out. The stamp says 11:09 P. M. "Welp, gotta go. School tomorrow."

He drives home, a fresh song in his heart.

**November 29, 2010, 12:45 P. M.**

Kurt is obsessed with learning more about dreams. He wills people to sleep in class. And study hall, as always, is full of excitement.

Kurt practices on everyone he can.

Most of the time, he fails.

He still hasn't figured everything out.

But he will.

By God, he will.

Because now he has his very good friend Miss Sylvester to help him. He suppresses the urge to skip down the hallways.

**December 5, 2010, 7:35 A. M.**

Blaine parks his new car next to Kurt's as he arrives at school.

It's not a brand-new car. Just new to him.

But it is a Beemer.

People on the south side of Lima do not drive Beemers. Well, maybe the 1976 variety. Definitely not the 2000 variety. Kurt's mouth opens, and then he presses his lips shut. Shakes his head and walks toward the building.

He's right behind him. "It's ten years old, Kurt. Come on."

Kurt's eyebrow are permanently raised as Blaine tries to keep up with him on the way in to school.

He loses him when he slips and flips on the icy sidewalk.

Kurt finds Rachel by the doorway to English class. "What's the scoop on the pimpster wheels out there?" Kurt asks her.

"I don't know, amico. He must be making some big cake. I can't believe he hasn't been expelled yet."

"Has he actually been arrested?"

"No. Quinn's daddy worked it out with the cops. Blaine was at all the parties this weekend with her."

"And now he's driving that." Kurt says,

"It's a friggin' 323Ci convertible. Jesse says seventeen grand at least for one of those, used."

Kurt's blood boils. "This is just, just-" The anger swells, and he can't come up with a word. Rachel is giving him the evil eye.

"Unbe-fucking-lievable?" Comes a voice from behind him.

Kurt takes a quick breath, watching Rachel's eyes grow wide. Shit. He turns around and there's Blaine.

"S'cuse me, please," he says politely, and squeezes past them into the classroom. Kurt catches a whiff of the cologne he's wearing. His stomach flips against his will.

Rachel's eyes sparkle. She giggles. "Oops."

Kurt rolls his eyes and laughs reluctantly. "Yeah."

**12:45 ****P****. M.**

For days, Kurt's been in other people's dreams during study hall, with minimal success in helping them change the dreams. He is still puzzled by one thing.

Make that two things.

First, how did Miss Sylvester get Mr. Schuester to ask her for help? And second, what was she saying to him to get him to change his dream?

Sorry. Make that three. Three things.

How the hell can Miss Sylvester see in the dreams, when she's blind? And how can she be there when she's dead? Okay, that's four. Kurt knows. There are probably more than that, even.

This is so frustrating.

He knows he needs to work harder.

And he's losing weight. Rapidly.

He was already thin enough.

Now his cheeks look caved in, like his mothers. And he has dark circles under his eyes, from getting up so often in the night, working on his own dreams.

He finds Milky Way bars in the strangest places.

(He knows they are from him.)

(He wonders if they are laced with pot.)

Blaine has been sitting in his old spot again the past few weeks. But he doesn't sleep.

He reads.

Kurt sort of wishes he would fall asleep. But he also worries what he might see.

Exams are coming. He opens his math book and studies it. Every now and then, he glances at Blaine, whose back is to him. From what Rachel said, he was at the Hill parties again all weekend. With Quinn. And a lot of drugs. Kurt sighs. Pulls himself out of the threatening misery and focuses on the math book again. Refuses to go there.

**1:01 ****P****. M.**

Blaine's head nods, and jerks back up. He shakes his head swiftly and glances over his shoulder at Kurt. Kurt looks down. Then he slouches in his chair and puts his chin in his hand. His hair falls softly around his shoulders and over his eyes. Kurt reluctantly admires his profile as he turns a page in the book.

His head nods.

The book slips from his fingers.

It doesn't wake him when it thumps on the table.

Kurt feels his energy.

He concentrates, and slips into his dream slowly. Another positive step he's learning to control the speed of his arrivals and departures. It's much easier than before.

**1:03 ****P****. M.**

_Blaine is__ sitting in a dark jail cell. Alone. Above his head is a sign that says, Drug Pusher._

_Kurt watches from outside the cell._

_Blaine's__ head is down._

_The scene changes abruptly._

_He__'__s in Kurt__'__s room, sitting on the floor, writing something on a pad of paper. Alone. He looks up at him, beckoning __him__ with his eyes. __He__ takes a few steps forward._

_He holds up the notepad._

**It****'****s not what you think.**

_That__'__s what it says._

_He tears off that sheet of paper. Below it is another sheet in his handwriting._

**I think I'm in love with you.**

_Kurt__'__s stomach lurches._

_He looks at the tablet for a long moment. Then he turns to Kurt and rips off one more sheet. He watches __Kurt's__ face as __Kurt__ reads it._

**How do you like my new trick?**

_Blaine__ grins at __him__, and fades._

_The scene changes again. Back in the jail cell. The sign above his head is gone._

_He is alone. __He__ watches from outside. His head is down. Then he looks up at __him__._

_A ring of keys floats in front of him._

"_Let me out,__"__ he says. __"__Help me.__"_

_Kurt is startled. __He__ moves automatically and unlocks the cell. __Blaine__ walks to __him__, takes __Kurt__ in his arms. He looks into __Kurt's glasz blue__ eyes. He sinks his fingers into __his__ hair and kisses __him__._

_Kurt steps out of __himself__ as __he's__ kissing Blaine. __He__ walks away into a dark hallway and eases __himself__ back to awareness in the library._

Kurt blinks.

Sits up.

Looks at him.

He's still asleep at his table.

He rubs his eyes and wonders:

_How the hell did he do that?_

And.

Now what?

**1:30 ****P****. M.**

He slides into the seat across the table from Kurt. His eyes are moist with sleep and mischief. "Well?"

"Well what," he mutters.

"It worked, right?"

Kurt squelches a grin. "Poorly. How the hell did you do that?" He demands.

His face sobers. "It's the only way I could think of to get you to talk to me."

"Okay, I get that. But how did you do it?"

He hesitates. Glances at the clock. Shrugs. "Doesn't look like I have time to explain right now," he says. "When would you like to go out with me so we can talk about it?" A grin flirts with his lips.

He's got Kurt cornered.

And he knows it.

Kurt chuckles, defeated. "You are such a bastard."

"When?" he demands. "I promise, all my heart, I'll be your house elf for the rest of my life if I fail to meet you at the appointed date and time." He leans forward. "Promise," he says again. He holds up two fingers.

The bell rings.

They stand up.

Kurt's not answering.

He comes around the table toward him and pushes Kurt gently against the wall. Sinks his lips onto Kurt's.

He tastes like coffee.

Kurt can't stop the flipping in his stomach.

He pulls back and touches Kurt's cheek, his hair. "When?" He whispers. Urgently.

Kurt clears his throat and blinks. "A-a-after school works for me," he says.

They grab their backpacks and run. As they slip in the doorway of government class, Blaine shoves a Power Bar in Kurt's hand.

Kurt sits at his desk and looks at it. He raises his eyebrow at him, from across the room.

_Protein_, he mouths. He gestures like a weight lifter.

Kurt laughs out loud.

Opens it.

Sneaks bites when the teacher isn't looking.

It's not as good as a Milky Ways.

But it'll do.

In P. E. , they're playing badminton.

"I'm watching you," he growls as they change sides. "Don't you dare sneak out of here without me."

Kurt flashes him a wicked grin.

After school, Kurt exits the locker room and looks around, then heads for the parking lot. Blaine's standing between their cars. His hair, dripping, has a few tiny icicles attached.

"Aha!" he says when he sees Kurt, as if he's foiled Kurt's escape plans.

Kurt rolls his eyes. "Where to, dream boy?"

Blaine hesitates.

Works his jaw.

"My house," he says. "You lead the way."

Kurt freezes. His stomach churns. "Is...is he..?" He swallows hard. He's not sure how to ask his question.

Blaine squints in the pale sunlight and reads the question in his voice. "Don't worry, Kurt. He's dead."

**Finally! Right! Wow, long chapter, but I really hope that it's worth it! Please tell me what you think by reviewing!**

**Don't forget to vote on my poll whether or not you want Rachel and Finn together, or keep it Rachel and Jesse.**

**Never play with Shadows,**

**LatinMagicWriter is on fire**


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